*RARY 

ERSITYOF 
-IFORNIA 
ITA  CRUZ 


VERA,   THE   MEDIUM 


"MISS    CIVILIZATION 


Vera,  in  a  hushed  and  solemn  voice,  called  for  silence 


Vera,  the  Medium 
"Miss  Civilization" 


BY 

RICHARD  HARDING  DAVIS 


ILLUSTRATED 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK:::::::::::::::::::::::::i9n 


VERA,  THE  MEDIUM 

COPYRIGHT.  1908,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


"MISS    CIVILIZATION" 

COPYRIGHT,  1904,  BY 
COLLIER'S  WEEKLY 


COPYRIGHT,  1905,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


PS 
I5JU, 

V4- 

14 // 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


VERA,  THE  MEDIUM i 

"Miss  CIVILIZATION" 165 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Vera,  in  a  hushed  and  solemn  voice,  called  for  silence 

Frontispiece 


FACING  PAGE 


"Fix  it?"  said  the  reporter.    "Not  with  me,  you 

can't" 16 

"I  will  not,"  she  rebelled.     "I  hate  it!"     ....  68 

Suddenly  they  saw  each  other  with  a  new  and  won 
derful  sympathy 106 

"Professor  Strombergk,"  announced  Vance.    .     .     .  142 

"Tell  me  if  I  hurt  you,"  he  murmured 150 


VERA,  THE  MEDIUM 


TO 
VANDERHEYDEN   FYLES 


VERA,  THE  MEDIUM 


PART    I 

HAPPY  in  the  hope  that  the  news  \va?  "ex 
clusive,"  the  Despatch  had  throw; i  the 
name  of  Stephen  Hallowell,  his  portrait,  a  picture 
of  his  house,  and  the  words,  "At  Point  of  Death!" 
across  three  columns.  The  announcement  was 
heavy,  lachrymose,  bristling  with  the  melancholy 
self-importance  of  the  man  who  "saw  the  de 
ceased,  just  two  minutes  before  the  train  hit  him." 

But  the  effect  of  the  news  fell  short  of  the  effort. 
Save  that  city  editors  were  irritated  that  the  presi 
dents  of  certain  railroads  figured  hastily  on  slips 
of  paper,  the  fact  that  an  old  man  and  his  mil 
lions  would  soon  be  parted,  left  New  York  undis 
turbed. 

In  the  early  '8o's  this  would  not  have  been 
so.  Then,  in  the  uplifting  of  the  far  West,  Stephen 
Hallowell  was  a  national  figure,  in  the  manoeuvres 
of  the  Eastern  stock  market  an  active,  alert  power. 
In  those  days,  when  a  man  with  a  few  millions 

3 


Vera,  the  Medium 

was  still  listed  as  rich,  his  fortune  was  considered 
colossal. 

A  patent  coupling-pin,  the  invention  of  his 
brother-in-law,  had  given  him  his  start,  and,  in 
introducing  it,  and  in  his  efforts  to  force  it  upon 
the  new  railroads  of  the  West,  he  had  obtained  a 
knowledge  of  their  affairs.  From  that  knowledge 
came  his  wealth.  That  was  twenty  years  ago. 
Since  then  giants  had  arisen  in  the  land;  men 
whose  wealth  made  the  fortune  of  Stephen  Hallo- 
well  appear  a  comfortable  competence,  his  schemes 
and  stratagems,  which,  in  their  day,  had  bewildered 
Wall  Street,  as  simple  as  the  trading  across  the 
counter  of  a  cross-roads  store. 

For  years  he  had  been  out  of  it.  He  had  lost 
count.  Disuse  and  ill-health  had  rendered  his 
mind  feeble,  made  him  at  times  suspicious,  at 
times  childishly  credulous.  Without  friends,  alone 
with  his  physician  and  the  butler,  who  was  also 
his  nurse,  he  lived  in  the  house  that  in  '76,  in  a 
burst  of  vanity,  he  had  built  on  Fifth  Avenue. 
Then  the  house  was  a  "  mansion,"  and  its  front  of 
brown  sandstone  the  outward  sign  of  wealth  and 
fashion.  Now,  on  one  side,  it  rubbed  shoulders 
with  the  shop  of  a  man  milliner,  and  across  the 
street  the  houses  had  been  torn  down  and  re 
placed  by  a  department  store.  Now,  instead  of 

4 


Vera,  the  Medium 

a  sombre  jail-like  facade,  his  outlook  was  a  row 
of  waxen  ladies,  who,  before  each  change  of  sea 
son,  appeared  in  new  and  gorgeous  raiment,  and, 
across  the  avenue,  for  his  approval,  smiled  con 
tinually. 

"It  is  time  you  moved,  Stephen,"  urged  his 
friend  and  lawyer,  Judge  Henry  Gaylor.  "I  can 
get  you  twice  as  much  for  this  lot  as  you  paid  for 
both  it  and  the  house." 

But  Mr.  Hallowell  always  shook  his  head. 
"Where  would  I  go,  Henry?"  he  would  ask. 
"What  would  I  do  with  the  money?  No,  I  will 
live  in  this  house  until  I  am  carried  out  of  it." 


With  distaste,  the  irritated  city  editors  "  followed 
up"  the  three-column  story  of  the  Despatch. 

"Find  out  if  there's  any  truth  in  that,"  they 
commanded.  "The  old  man  won't  see  you,  but 
get  a  talk  out  of  Rainey.  And  see  Judge  Gaylor. 
He's  close  to  Hallowell.  Find  out  from  him  if 
that  story  didn't  start  as  a  bear  yarn  in  Wall 
Street."  ' 

So,  when  Walsh  of  the  Despatch  was  conducted 
by  Garrett,  the  butler  of  Mr.  Hallowell,  upstairs 
to  that  gentleman's  library,  he  found  a  group  of 
reporters  already  entrenched.  At  the  door  that 

5 


Vera,  the  Medium 

opened  from  the  library  to  the  bedroom,  the  but 
ler  paused.  "What  paper  shall  I  say  ?"  he  asked. 

"The  Despatch^  Walsh  told  him. 

The  servant  turned  quickly  and  stared  at 
Walsh. 

He  appeared  the  typical  butler,  an  Englishman 
of  over  forty,  heavily  built,  soft-moving,  with 
ruddy,  smooth-shaven  cheeks  and  prematurely 
gray  hair.  But  now  from  his  face  the  look  of 
perfunctory  politeness  had  fallen;  the  subdued 
voice  had  changed  to  a  snarl  that  carried  with  it 
the  accents  of  the  Tenderloin. 

"So,  you're  the  one,  are  you?"  the  man  mut 
tered. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  scowling;  insolent, 
almost  threatening;  and  then,  once  more,  the  ser 
vant  opened  the  door  and  noiselessly  closed  it 
behind  him. 

The  transition  had  been  so  abrupt,  the  revela 
tion  so  unexpected,  that  the  men  laughed. 

"I  don't  blame  him!"  said  young  Irving.  "I 
couldn't  find  a  single  fact  in  the  whole  story. 
How'd  your  people  get  it — pretty  straight?" 

"  Seemed  straight  to  us,"  said  Walsh. 

"Well,  you  didn't  handle  it  that  way,"  re 
turned  the  other.  "Why  didn't  you  quote  Rai- 
ney  or  Gaylor?  It  seems  to  me  if  a  man's  on 

6 


Vera,  the  Medium 

the  point  of  death" — he  lowered  his  voice  and 
glanced  toward  the  closed  door — "that  his  pri 
vate  doctor  and  his  lawyer  might  know  some 
thing  about  it." 

Standing  alone  with  his  back  to  the  window 
was  a  reporter  who  had  greeted  no  one  and  to 
whom  no  one  had  spoken. 

Had  he  held  himself  erect  he  would  have  been 
tall,  but  he  stood  slouching  lazily,  his  shoulders 
bent,  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  When  he  spoke  his 
voice  was  in  keeping  with  the  indolence  of  his 
bearing.  It  was  soft,  hesitating,  carrying  with  it 
the  courteous  deference  of  the  South.  Only  his 
eyes  showed  that  to  what  was  going  forward  he 
was  alert  and  attentive. 

"Is  Dr.  Rainey  Mr.  Halloweirs  family  doc 
tor?"  he  asked. 

Irving  surveyed  him  in  amused  superiority.  , 

"He  is!"  he  answered.  "You  been  long  in 
New  York?"  he  asked. 

Upon  the  stranger  the  sarcasm  was  lost,  or  he 
chose  to  ignore  it,  for  he  answered  simply,  "No, 
Fm  a  New  Orleans  boy.  I've  just  been  taken  on 
the  Republtc." 

"Welcome  to  our  city,"  said  Irving.  "What 
do  you  think  of  our  Main  Street  ? " 

From  the  hall  a  tall  portly  man  entered  the 
7 


Vera,  the  Medium 

room  with  the  assurance  of  one  much  at  home 
here  and,  with  an  exclamation,  Irving  fell  upon 
him. 

"Good-morning,  Judge,"  he  called.  He  waved 
at  him  the  clipping  from  the  Despatch.  "Have 
you  seen  this  ? " 

Judge  Gaylor  accepted  the  slip  of  paper  gingerly, 
and  in  turn  moved  his  fine  head  pompously  tow 
ard  each  of  the  young  men.  Most  of  them  were 
known  to  him,  but  for  the  moment  he  preferred 
to  appear  too  deeply  concerned  to  greet  them. 
With  an  expression  of  shocked  indignation,  he 
recognized  only  Walsh. 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  it,"  he  said,  "and  there 
is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it!  Mr.  Walsh,  I  am 
surprised!  You,  of  all  people!" 

"We  got  it  on  very  good  authority,"  said  the 
reporter. 

"But  why  not  call  me  up  and  get  the  facts?" 
demanded  the  Judge.  "I  was  here  until  twelve 
o'clock,  and 

"Here!"  interrupted  Irving.  "Then  he  did 
have  a  collapse  ? " 

Judge  Gaylor  swung  upon  his  heel. 

"Certainly  not,"  he  retorted  angrily.  "I  was 
here  on  business,  and  I  have  never  known  his 
mind  more  capable,  more  alert."  He  lifted  his 

8 


Vera,  the  Medium 

hands  with  an  enthusiastic  gesture.     "I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  him!" 

"Well,"  urged  Irving,  "how  about  our  seeing 
him  now  ?" 

For  a  moment  Judge  Gaylor  permitted  his 
annoyance  to  appear,  but  he  at  once  recovered 
and,  murmuring  cheerfully,  "Certainly,  certainly; 
I'll  try  to  arrange  it,"  turned  to  the  butler  who 
had  re-entered  the  room. 

"Garrett,"  he  inquired,  "is  Mr.  Hallowell 
awake  yet  ? "  As  he  asked  the  question  his  eye 
brows  rose;  with  an  almost  imperceptible  shake 
of  the  head  he  signalled  for  an  answer  in  the 
negative. 

"Well,  there  you  are!"  the  Judge  exclaimed 
heartily.  "I  can't  wake  him,  even  to  oblige  you. 
In  a  word,  gentlemen,  Stephen  Hallowell  has  never 
been  in  better  health,  mentally  and  bodily.  You  can 
say  that  from  me — and  that's  all  there  is  to  say." 

"Then,  we  can  say,"  persisted  Irving,  "that 
you  say,  that  Walsh's  story  is  a  fake  ? " 

"You  can  say  it  is  not  true,"  corrected  Gaylor. 
"That's  all,  gentlemen."  The  audience  was  at 
an  end.  The  young  men  moved  toward  the 
hall  and  Judge  Gaylor  turned  to  the  bedroom. 
As  he  did  so,  he  found  that  the  new  man  on  the 
Republic  still  held  his  ground. 

9 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"  Could  I  have  a  word  with  you,  sir  ? "  the 
stranger  asked.  The  reporters  halted  jealously. 
Again  Gaylor  showed  his  impatience. 

"About  Mr.  Harwell's  health  ?"  he  demanded. 
"There's  nothing  more  to  say." 

"No,  it's  not  about  his  health,"  ventured  the 
reporter. 

"Well,  not  now.  I  am  very  late  this  morning." 
The  Judge  again  moved  to  the  bedroom  and  the 
reporter,  as  though  accepting  the  verdict,  started 
to  follow  the  others.  As  he  did  so,  as  though 
in  explanation  or  as  a  warning  he  added:  "You 
said  to  always  come  to  you  for  the  facts."  The 
lawyer  halted,  hesitated.  "What  facts  do  you 
want?"  he  asked.  The  reporter  bowed,  and 
waved  his  broad  felt  hat  toward  the  listening  men. 
In  polite  embarrassment  he  explained  what  he 
had  to  say  could  not  be  spoken  in  their  presence. 

Something  in  the  manner  of  the  stranger  led 
Judge  Gaylor  to  pause.  He  directed  Garrett  to 
accompany  the  reporters  from  the  room.  Then, 
with  mock  politeness,  he  turned  to  the  one  who 
remained.  "I  take  it,  you  are  a  new-comer  in 
New  York  journalism.  What  is  your  name  ? " 
he  asked. 

"My  name  is  Homer  Lee,"  said  the  South 
erner.  "  I  am  a  New  Orleans  boy.  I've  been  only 

10 


Vera,  the  Medium 

a  month  in  your  city.  Judge,"  he  began  earnestly, 
but  in  a  voice  which  still  held  the  drawl  of  the 
South,  "I  met  a  man  from  home  last  week  on 
Broadway.  He  belonged  to  that  spiritualistic 
school  on  Carondelet  Street.  He  knows  all  that's 
going  on  in  the  spook  world,  and  he  tells  me  the 
ghost  raisers  have  got  their  hooks  into  the  old 
man  pretty  deep.  Is  that  so?" 

The  bewilderment  of  Judge  Gaylor  was  com 
plete  and,  without  question,  genuine. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"   he  said. 

"My  informant  tells  me,"  continued  the  re 
porter,  "that  Mr.  Hallowell  has  embraced — if 
that's  what  you  call  it — spiritualism." 

Gaylor  started  forward. 

"What!"   he  roared. 

Unmoved,  the  other  regarded  the  Judge  keenly. 

"Spiritualism,"  he  repeated,  "and  that  a  bunch 
of  these  mediums  have  got  him  so  hypnotized  he 
can't  call  his  soul  his  own,  or  his  money,  either. 
Is  that  true  ?" 

Judge  Gaylor's  outburst  was  overwhelming. 
That  it  was  genuine  Mr.  Lee,  observing  him 
closely,  was  convinced. 

"Of  all  the  outrageous,  ridiculous" — the  Judge 
halted,  gasping  for  words — "and  libellous  state 
ments!"  he  went  on.  "If  you  print  that,"  he 

ii 


Vera,  the  Medium 

thundered,  "Mr.  Hallowell  will  sue  your  paper 
for  half  a  million  dollars.  Can't  you  see  the 
damage  you  would  do  ?  Can't  your  people  see 
that  if  the  idea  got  about  that  he  was  unable  to 
direct  his  own  affairs,  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of 
mediums,  it  would  invalidate  everything  he  does  ? 
After  his  death,  every  act  of  his  at  this  time,  every 
paper  he  had  signed,  would  be  suspected,  and — 
and" — stammered  the  Judge  as  his  imagination 
pictured  what  might  follow: — "they  might  even 
attack  his  will ! "  He  advanced  truculently.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  publish  this  libel  ? " 

Lee  moved  his  shoulders  in  deprecation.  "I'm 
afraid  we  must"  he  said. 

"You  must!"  demanded  Gaylor.  "After  what 
I've  told  you  ?  Do  you  think  I'm  lying  to 
you?" 

"No,"  said  the  reporter;  "I  don't  think  you 
are.  Looks  more  like  you  didn't  know." 

"Not  know?  I?"  Gaylor  laughed  hysteri 
cally.  "I  am  his  lawyer.  I  am  his  best  friend! 
Who  will  you  believe  ? "  He  stepped  to  the  table 
and  pressed  an  electric  button,  and  Garrett  ap 
peared  in  the  hall.  "Tell  Dr.  Rainey  I  want  to 
see  him,"  Gaylor  commanded,  "and  return  with 
him." 

As  they  waited,  Judge  Gaylor  paced  quickly 
12 


Vera,  the  Medium 

to  and  fro.  "I've  had  to  deny  some  pretty  silly 
stories  about  Mr.  Hallowell,"  he  said,  "but  of 
all  the  absurd,  malicious —  There's  some  enemy 
back  of  this;  some  one  in  Wall  Street  is  doing 
this.  But  I'll  find  him — I'll — "  he  was  inter 
rupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  butler  and  Dr. 
Rainey,  Mr.  Hallowell's  personal  physician. 

Rainey  was  a  young  man  with  a  weak  face,  and 
knowing,  shifting  eyes  that  blinked  behind  a  pair 
of  eye-glasses.  To  conceal  an  indecision  of  char 
acter  of  which  he  was  quite  conscious,  he  assumed 
a  manner  that,  according  to  whom  he  addressed, 
was  familiar  or  condescending.  At  one  of  the 
big  hospitals  he  had  been  an  ambulance  surgeon 
and  resident  physician,  later  he  had  started  upon 
a  somewhat  doubtful  career  as  a  medical  "expert." 
Only  two  years  had  passed  since  the  police  and  the 
reporters  of  the  Tenderloin  had  ceased  calling 
him  "Doc."  In  a  celebrated  criminal  case  in 
which  Gaylor  had  acted  as  chief  counsel,  he  had 
found  Rainey  complaisant  and  apparently  totally 
without  the  moral  sense.  And  when  in  Garrett  he 
had  discovered  for  Mr.  Hallowell  a  model  servant, 
he  had  also  urged  upon  his  friend,  for  his  resident 
physician,  his  protege  Rainey. 

Still  at  white  heat,  the  older  man  began  ab 
ruptly: 

13 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"This  gentleman  is  from  the  Republic.  He  is 
going  to  publish  a  story  that  Mr.  Hallowell  has 
fallen  under  the  influence  of  mediums,  clairvoy 
ants;  that  everything  he  does  is  on  advice  from 
the  spirit  world — "  he  turned  sharply  upon  Lee. 
"Is  that  right?"  The  reporter  nodded. 

"You  can  see  the  effect  of  such  a  story.  It 
would  invalidate  every  act  of  Mr.  Halloweirs!" 

Dr.  Rainey  laughed  offensively. 

"It  might,"  he  said,  "but  who'd  believe  it?" 

"He  believes  it!"  cried  Gaylor,  "or  he  pretends 
to  believe  it.  Tell  him!"  he  commanded.  "He 
won't  believe  me.  Does  Mr.  Hallowell  associate 
with  mediums,  and  spirits — and  spooks?" 

Again  the  young  doctor  laughed. 

"Of  course  not!"  he  exclaimed.  "It's  not 
worth  answering,  Judge.  You  ought  to  treat  it 
with  silent  contempt."  From  behind  his  glasses 
he  winked  at  the  reporter  with  a  jocular,  intimate 
smile.  He  was  adapting  himself  to  what  he  im 
agined  was  his  company.  "Where  did  you  pick 
up  that  pipe  dream?"  he  asked. 

Without  answering,  the  Southerner  regarded 
him  steadily  with  inquiring,  interested  eyes. 
The  doctor  coughed  nervously  and  turned  to 
Judge  Gaylor.  In  the  manner  of  a  cross-exami 
nation  Gaylor  called  up  his  next  witness. 

14 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Garrett,  does  any  one  visit  Mr.  Hallowell 
without  your  knowledge?"  he  asked.  "You 
may  not  open  the  door  for  him,  but  rou  know 
every  one  who  gets  in  to  see  Mr.  Hallowell,  do 
you  not  ? " 

"Every  one,  sir." 

"Do  you  admit  any  mediums,  palm-readers, 
or  people  of  that  sort?" 

"Certainly  not,"  returned  the  butler. 

"Dr.  Rainey,"  he  added,  "would  not  permit 
it,  sir." 

Gaylor  stamped  his  foot  with  impatience. 

"Do  you  admit  any  one,"  he  demanded,  "with 
out  Dr.  Rainey' s  permission?" 

"No,  sir!"  The  reply  could  not  have  rung 
with  greater  emphasis.  Triumphantly,  Gaylor, 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  as  though  saying,  "Take 
the  witness,"  turned  to  Lee.  "There  you  are," 
he  cried.  "Now,  are  you  satisfied?" 

The  reporter  moved  slowly  toward  the  door. 
"I  am  satisfied,"  he  said,  "that  the  man  doesn't 
admit  any  one  without  Dr.  Rainey' s  permission." 

Indignantly,  as  though  to  intercept  him,  Judge 
Gaylor  stepped  forward.  Both  Rainey  and  him 
self  spoke  together. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Rainey  de 
manded. 

IS 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Are  you  trying  to  be  insolent,  sir?"  cried  the 
Judge. 

Lee  smiled  pleasantly.  "I  had  no  intention  of 
being  insolent,"  he  said.  "We  have  the  facts — I 
only  came  to  give  you  a  chance  to  explain  them." 

Gaylor  lost  all  patience. 

"What  facts?"  he  shouted.  "What  facts? 
That  mediums  come  here  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lee. 

"When?"  Gaylor  cried.  "Tell  me  that! 
When?" 

Lee  regarded  the  older  man  thoughtfully. 

"Well,  to-day  is  Thursday,"  he  said.  "They 
were  here  Monday  morning,  and  Tuesday  morn 
ing — and — the  one  they  call  Vera — will  be  here 
in  half  an  hour." 

Rainey  ran  across  the  room,  stretching  out 
eager,  detaining  hands. 

"See  here!"   he  begged.     "We  can  fix  this!" 

"Fix  it?"  said  the  reporter.  "Not  with  me, 
you  can't."  He  turned  to  the  door  and  found 
Garrett  barring  his  exit.  He  halted,  fell  back 
on  his  heels,  and  straightened  his  shoulders.  For 
the  first  time  they  saw  how  tall  he  was. 

"Get  out  of  my  way,"  he  said.  The  butler 
hesitated  and  fell  back.  Lee  walked  into  the 
hall. 

16 


"Fix  it?"  said  the  reporter.     "Not  with  me,  you  can't" 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"I'll  leave  you  gentlemen  to  fight  it  out  among 
you,"  he  said.  "It's  a  better  story  than  I  thought." 

As  he  descended  to  the  floor  below,  the  men 
remained  motionless.  The  face  of  Judge  Gaylor 
seemed  to  have  grown  older.  When  the  front 
door  closed,  he  turned  and  searched  the  counte 
nance  of  each  of  his  companions.  The  butler  had 
dropped  into  a  chair  muttering  and  beating  his 
fist  into  his  open  palm. 

Gaylor' s  voice  was  hardly  louder  than  a  whisper. 
"Is  this  true?"  he  asked. 

Like  a  cur  dog  pinned  in  a  corner  and  forced 
to  fight,  Rainey  snarled  at  him  evilly.  "  Of  course 
it's  true,"  he  said. 

"You've  let  these  people  see  him!"  cried 
Gaylor.  "After  I  forbade  it?  After  I  told  you 
what  would  happen  ?" 

"He  would  see  them,"  Rainey  answered  hotly. 
"'Twas  better  I  chose  them  than " 

Gaylor  raised  his  clenched  hands  and  took  a 
sudden  step  forward.  The  Doctor  backed  hastily 
against  the  library  table.  "Don't  you  come  near 
me!"  he  stammered.  "Don't  you  touch  me." 

"And  you've  lied  to  me!"  cried  Gaylor. 
"You've  deceived  me.  You — you  jailbirds — you 
idiots."  His  voice  rose  hysterically.  "And  do  you 
think,"  he  demanded  fiercely, "I'll  help  you  now  ?" 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"No!"   said  the  butler. 

The  word  caught  the  Judge  in  the  full  rush  of 
his  anger.  He  turned  stupidly  as  though  he  had 
not  heard  aright.  "What?"  he  asked.  From 
the  easy-chair  the  butler  regarded  him  with  sullen, 
hostile  eyes. 

"No!"  he  repeated.  "We  don't  think  you'll 
help  us.  You  never  meant  to  help  us.  You've 
never  thought  of  any  one  but  yourself." 

The  face  of  the  older  man  was  filled  with  re 
proach. 

"Jim!"   he  protested. 

"Don't  do  that!"  commanded  the  butler 
sharply.  "I've  told  you  not  to  do  that." 

The  Judge  moved  his  head  slowly  in  amaze 
ment.  The  tone  of  reproach  was  still  in  his  voice. 

"I  thought  you  could  understand,"  he  said. 
"It  doesn't  matter  about  him.  But  you!  You 
should  have  seen  what  I  was  doing!" 

"I  saw  what  you  were  doing,"  the  butler  re 
plied.  "Buying  stocks,  buying  a  country  place. 
You  didn't  wait  for  him  to  die.  What  were  we 
getting?" 

With  returning  courage,  Rainey  nodded  vigor 
ously. 

"That's  right,  all  right,"  he  protested.  "What 
were  we  getting  ? " 

18 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"What  were  you  getting?"  demanded  Gaylor, 
eagerly.  "If  you'd  only  left  him  to  me,  till  he 
signed  the  new  will,  you'd  have  had  everything. 
It  only  needs  his  signature." 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Garrett  contemptuously; 
"that's  all  it  needs." 

"Oh,  he'd  have  signed  it!"  cried  Gaylor. 
"But  what's  it  worth  now!  Nothing!  Thanks 
to  you  two — nothing!  They'll  claim  undue  in 
fluence,  they'll  claim  he  signed  it  under  the  in 
fluence  of  mediums — of  ghosts."  His  voice  shook 
with  anger  and  distress.  "You've  ruined  me!" 
he  cried.  "  You've  ruined  me." 

He  turned  and  paced  from  them,  his  fingers 
interlacing,  his  teeth  biting  upon  his  lower  lip. 
The  two  other  men  glanced  at  each  other  uncom 
fortably;  their  silence  seemed  to  assure  Gaylor 
that  already  they  regretted  what  they  had  done. 
He  stood  over  Garrett,  and  for  an  instant  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  shoulder.  His  voice  now  was 
sane  and  cold. 

"I've  worked  three  years  for  this,"  he  said. 
"And  for  you,  too,  Jim.  You  know  that.  I've 
worked  on  his  vanity,  on  his  fear  of  death,  on  his 
damn  superstition.  When  he  talked  of  restitu 
tion,  of  giving  the  money  to  his  niece,  I  asked 
'Why?'  I  said,  'Leave  it  for  a  great  monument 

19 


Vera,  the  Medium 

to  your  memory.  Isn't  it  better  that  ten  million 
dollars  should  be  spent  in  good  works  in  your 
name  than  that  it  should  go  to  a  chit  of  a  child  to 
be  wasted  by  some  fortune-hunter  ?  And — then 
— I  evolved  the  Hallowell  Institute,  university, 
hospital,  library,  all  under  one  roof,  all  under  one 
direction;  and  I  would  have  been  the  director. 
We  should  have  handled  ten  millions  of  dollars! 
I'd  have  made  you  both  so  rich,"  he  cried  savagely, 
"that  in  two  years  you'd  have  drunk  yourselves 
into  a  mad-house.  And  you  couldn't  trust  me! 
You've  filled  this  house  with  fakes  and  palm- 
readers.  And,  now,  every  one  will  know  just 
what  he  is — a  senile,  half-witted  old  man  who 
was  clay  in  my  hands,  clay  in  my  hands — and 
you've  robbed  me  of  him,  you've  robbed  me  of 
him!"  His  voice,  broken  with  anger  and  disap 
pointment,  rose  in  an  hysterical  wail.  As  though 
to  meet  it  a  bell  rang  shrilly.  Gaylor  started  and 
stood  with  eyes  fixed  on  the  door  of  the  bedroom. 
The  three  men  eyed  each  other  guiltily. 

The  butler  was  the  first  to  recover.  With 
mask-like  face  he  hastened  noiselessly  across  the 
room.  In  his  tones  of  usual  authority,  Gaylor 
stopped  him. 

"Tell  Mr.  Hallowell,"  he  directed,  "that  his 
niece  and  District  Attorney  Winthrop  will  be 

20 


Vera,  the  Medium 

here  any  moment.  Ask  him  if  he  wishes  me  to 
see  them,  or  if  he  will  talk  to  them  himself  ?" 

When  the  faithful  servant  had  entered  the  bed 
room  Gaylor  turned  to  Rainey. 

"When  do  these  mediums  come  to-day?"  he 
asked. 

Rainey  stared  sulkily  at  the  floor. 

"I  think  they're  here  now — downstairs/'  he 
answered.  "Garrett  generally  hides  them  there 
till  you're  out  of  the  house." 

"Indeed,"  commented  Gaylor  dryly.  "After 
Winthrop  and  Miss  Coates  have  gone,  I  want  to 
talk  with  your  friends." 

"Now,  see  here,  Judge,"  whined  Rainey; 
"don't  make  trouble.  It  isn't  as  bad  as  you 
think.  The  old  man's  only  investigating " 

"Hush!"    commanded  the  Judge. 

From  the  bedroom,  leaning  on  the  butler's  arm, 
Stephen  Hallowell  came  stumbling  toward  them 
and,  with  a  sigh,  sank  into  an  invalid's  chair  that 
was  placed  for  him  between  the  fire  and  the 
long  library  table.  He  was  a  very  feeble,  very 
old  man,  with  a  white  face,  and  thin,  white  hair, 
but  with  a  mouth  and  lower  jaw  as  hard  and  un 
compromising  as  those  of  a  skull.  His  eyes,  which 
were  strangely  brilliant  and  young-looking,  peered 
suspiciously  from  under  ragged  white  eyebrows. 

21 


Vera,  the  Medium 

But  when  they  fell  upon  the  Doctor,  the  eyes 
became  suddenly  credulous,  pleading,  filled  with 
self-pity. 

"I'm  a  very  sick  man,  Doctor/'  said  Mr. 
Hallowell. 

Judge  Gaylor  bustled  forward  cheerily.  "Non 
sense,  Stephen,  nonsense,"  he  cried;  "you  look  a 
different  man  this  morning.  Doesn't  he,  Doctor  ?" 

"Sure  he  does!"  assented  Rainey.  "Little 
sleep  was  all  he  needed."  Mr.  Hallowell  shook 
his  head  petulantly.  "Not  at  all!"  he  protested. 
"That  was  a  very  serious  attack.  This  morning 
my  head  hurts — hurts  me  to  think — 

"Perhaps,"  said  Gaylor,  "you'd  prefer  that  I 
talked  to  your  niece." 

"No!"  exclaimed  the  invalid  excitedly.  "I 
want  to  see  her  myself.  I  want  to  tell  her,  once 
and  for  all—  He  checked  himself  and  frowned 
at  the  Doctor.  "You  needn't  wait,"  he  said. 
"And  Doctor,"  he  added  meaningly,  "after  these 
people  go,  you  come  back." 

With  a  conscious  glance  at  the  Judge,  Rainey 
nodded  and  left  them. 

"No,"  continued  the  old  man;  "I  want  to  talk 
to  my  niece  myself.  But  I  don't  want  to  talk  to 
Winthrop.  He's  too  clever  a  young  man,  Win- 
throp.  In  the  merger  case,  you  remember — had 

22 


Vera,  the  Medium 

me  on  the  stand  for  three  hours.  Made  me  talk 
too."  The  mind  of  the  old  man  suddenly  veered 
at  a  tangent.  "How  the  devil  can  Helen  retain 
him?"  he  demanded  peevishly.  "She  can't  re 
tain  him.  She  hasn't  any  money.  And  he's 
District  Attorney  too.  It's  against  the  law.  Is 
he  doing  it  as  a  speculation  ?  Does  he  want  to 
marry  her?" 

Judge  Gaylor  laughed  soothingly. 

"Heavens,  no!"  he  said.  "She's  in  his  office, 
that's  all.  When  she  took  this  craze  to  be  inde 
pendent  of  you,  he  gave  her  a  position  as  secretary, 
or  as  stenographer,  or  something.  She's  probably 
told  him  her  story,  her  side  of  it,  and  he's  help 
ing  her  out  of  charity."  The  Judge  smiled  toler 
antly.  "He  does  that  sort  of  thing,  I  believe." 

The  old  man  struck  the  library  table  with  his 
palm.  "I  wish  he'd  mind  his  own  business,"  he 
cried.  "It's  my  money.  She  has  no  claim  to  it, 
never  had  any  claim " 

The  Judge  interrupted  quickly. 

"That's  all  right,  Stephen;  that's  all  right," 
he  said.  "Don't  excite  yourself.  Just  get  what 
you're  to  say  straight  in  your  mind  and  stick  to  it. 
Remember,"  he  went  on,  as  though  coaching  a 
child  in  a  task  already  learned,  "there  never  was 
a  written  agreement." 

23 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"No!"   muttered  Hallowell.    "Never  was!" 

"Repeat  this  to  yourself,"  commanded  the 
Judge.  "The  understanding  between  you  and 
your  brother-in-law  was  that  if  you  placed  his 
patent  on  the  market,  for  the  first  five  years  you 
would  share  the  profits  equally.  After  the  five 
years,  all  rights  in  the  patent  became  yours.  It 
was  unfortunate,"  commented  the  Judge  dryly, 
"that  your  brother-in-law  and  your  sister  died 
before  the  five  years  were  up,  especially  as  the 
patent  did  not  begin  to  make  money  until  after 
five  years.  Remember — until  after  five  years." 

"Until  after  five  years,"  echoed  Mr.  Hallowell. 
"It  was  over  six  years,"  he  went  on  excitedly, 
"before  it  made  a  cent.  And,  then,  it  was  my 
money — and  anything  I  give  my  niece  is  charity. 
She's  not  entitled " 

Garrett  appeared  at  the  door.  "Miss  Coates," 
he  announced,  "and  Mr.  Winthrop."  Judge 
Gaylor  raised  a  hand  for  silence,  and  as  Mr.  Hal 
lowell  sank  back  in  his  chair,  Helen  Coates,  the 
only  child  of  Catherine  Coates,  his  sister,  and 
the  young  District  Attorney  of  New  York  came 
into  the  library.  Miss  Coates  was  a  woman  of 
between  twenty-five  and  thirty,  capable,  and  self- 
reliant.  She  had  a  certain  beauty  of  a  severe  type, 
but  an  harassed  expression  about  her  eyes  made 

24 


Vera,  the  Medium 

her  appear  to  be  always  frowning.  At  times,  in  a 
hardening  of  the  lower  part  of  her  face,  she 
showed  a  likeness  to  her  uncle.  Like  him,  in 
speaking,  also,  her  manner  was  positive  and  de 
cided. 

In  age  the  young  man  who  accompanied  her 
was  ten  years  her  senior,  but  where  her  difficulties 
had  made  her  appear  older  than  she  really  was, 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  had  thrown  himself 
against  those  of  his  own  life,  had  left  him  young. 

The  rise  of  Winthrop  had  been  swift  and  spec 
tacular.  Almost  as  soon  as  he  graduated  from  the 
college  in  the  little  "up-state"  town  where  he  had 
been  educated,  and  his  family  had  always  lived, 
he  became  the  prosecuting  attorney  of  that  town, 
and  later,  at  Albany,  represented  the  district  in 
the  Assembly.  From  Albany  he  entered  a  law 
office  in  New  York  City,  and  in  the  cause  of  reform 
had  fought  so  many  good  fights  that  on  an 
independent  ticket,  much  to  his  surprise,  he  had 
been  lifted  to  the  high  position  he  now  held.  No 
more  in  his  manner  than  in  his  appearance  did 
Winthrop  suggest  the  popular  conception  of  his 
role.  He  was  not  professional,  not  mysterious. 
Instead,  he  was  sane,  cheerful,  tolerant.  It  was 
his  philosophy  to  believe  that  the  world  was  in 
nocent  until  it  was  proved  guilty. 

25 


Vera,  the  Medium 

He  was  a  bachelor  and,  except  for  two  sisters 
who  had  married  men  of  prominence  in  New 
York  and  who  moved  in  a  world  of  fashion  into 
which  he  had  not  penetrated,  he  was  alone. 

When  the  visitors  entered,  Mr.  Hallowell,  with 
out  rising,  greeted  his  niece  cordially. 

"Ah,  Helen!  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he  called, 
and  added  reproachfully,  "at  last." 

"How  do  you  do,  sir?"  returned  Miss  Helen 
stiffly.  With  marked  disapproval  she  bowed  to 
Judge  Gaylor. 

"And  our  District  Attorney,"  cried  Mr.  Hal 
lowell.  "  Pardon  my  not  rising,  won't  you  ?  I 
haven't  seen  you,  sir,  since  you  tried  to  get  the 
Grand  Jury  to  indict  me."  He  chuckled  delight 
edly.  "You  didn't  succeed,"  he  taunted. 

Winthrop  shook  hands  with  him,  smiling. 
"Don't  blame  me"  he  said.  "I  did  my  best.  I'm 
glad  to  see  you  in  such  good  spirits,  Mr.  Hallowell. 
I  feared,  by  the  Despatch— — " 

"Lies,  lies,"  interrupted  Hallowell  curtly. 
"You  know  Judge  Gaylor?" 

As  he  shook  hands,  Winthrop  answered  that 
the  Judge  and  he  were  old  friends;  that  they  knew 
each  other  well. 

"Know  each  other  so  well!"  returned  the 
Judge,  "that  we  ought  to  be  old  enemies." 

26 


Vera,  the  Medium 

The  younger  man  nodded  appreciatively. 

"That's  true!"  he  laughed,  "only  I  didn't 
think  you'd  admit  it." 

With  light  sarcasm  Mr.  Hallowell  inquired 
whether  Winthrop  was  with  them  in  his  official 
capacity. 

"Oh,  don't  suggest  that!"  begged  Winthrop; 
"you'll  be  having  me  indicted  next.  No,  sir, 
I  am  here  without  any  excuse  whatsoever.  I 
am  just  interfering  as  a  friend  of  this  young 
lady." 

"Good,"  commented  Hallowell.  "I'd  be  sorry 
to  have  my  niece  array  counsel  against  me — 
especially  such  distinguished  counsel.  Sit  down, 
Helen." 

Miss  Coates  balanced  herself  on  the  edge  of 
a  chair  and  spoke  in  cool,  business-like  tones. 
"Mr.  Hallowell,"  she  began,  "I  came- 

"Mr.  Hallowell?"    objected  her  uncle. 

"Uncle  Stephen,"  Miss  Coates  again  began, 
"I  wish  to  be  as  brief  as  possible.  I  asked  you  to 
see  me  to-day,  because  I  hoped  that  by  talking 
things  over  we  might  avoid  lawsuits  and  litiga 
tion—" 

Mr.  Hallowell  nodded  his  approval.  "Yes," 
he  said  encouragingly. 

"  I  have  told  Mr.  Winthrop  what  the  trouble  is," 
27 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Miss  Coates  went  on,  "and  he  agrees  with  me 
that  I  have  been  very  unjustly  treated " 

"  By  whom  ? "   interrupted  Hallowell. 

"By  you,"  said  his  niece. 

"Wait,  Helen,"  commanded  the  old  man. 
"Have  you  also  told  Mr.  Winthrop,"  he  de 
manded,  "that  I  have  made  a  will  in  your  favor  ? 
That,  were  I  to  die  to-night,  you  would  inherit  ten 
millions  of  dollars  ?  Is  that  the  injustice  of  which 
you  complain  ?" 

Judge  Gaylor  gave  an  exclamation  of  pleasure. 

"Good!"  he  applauded.     "Excellent!" 

Hallowell  turned  indignantly  to  Winthrop. 
"And  did  she  tell  you  also,"  he  demanded, 
"that  for  three  years  I  have  urged  her  to  make  a 
home  in  this  house  ?  That  I  have  offered  her  an 
income  as  large  as  I  would  give  my  own  daugh 
ter,  and  that  she  has  refused  both  offers.  And 
what's  more" — in  his  excitement  his  voice  rose 
hysterically — "by  working  publicly  for  her  living 
she  has  made  me  appear  mean  and  uncharitable, 
and " 

"That's  just  it,"  interrupted  Miss  Coates.  "It 
isn't  a  question  of  charity." 

"Will  you  allow  me?"  said  Winthrop  sooth 
ingly.  "Your  niece  contends,  sir,"  he  explained, 
"that  this  money  you  offered  her  is  not  yours  to 

28 


Vera,  the  Medium 

offer.  She  claims  it  belongs  to  her.  That  it's 
what  should  have  been  her  father's  share  of  the 
profits  on  the  Coates-Hallowell  coupling-pin.  But, 
as  you  have  willed  your  niece  so  much  money,  al 
though  half  of  it  is  hers  already,  I  advised  her  not 
to  fight.  Going  to  law  is  an  expensive  business. 
But  she  has  found  out — and  that's  what  brings 
me  uptown  this  morning — that  you  intend  to 
make  a  new  will,  and  leave  all  her  money  and 
your  own  to  establish  the  Hallowell  Institute. 
Now,"  Winthrop  continued,  with  a  propitiating 
smile,  "Miss  Coates  also  would  like  to  be  a  phil 
anthropist,  in  her  own  way,  with  her  own  money. 
And  she  wishes  to  warn  you  that,  unless  you  de 
liver  up  what  is  due  her,  she  will  proceed  against 

you." 

Judge  Gaylor  was  the  first  to  answer. 

"Mr.  Winthrop,"  he  said  impressively,  "I  give 
you  my  word,  there  is  not  one  dollar  due  Miss 
Coates,  except  what  Mr.  Hallowell  pleases  to 
give  her " 

Miss  Coates  contradicted  him  sharply.  "That 
is  not  so,"  she  said.  She  turned  to  her  uncle. 
"You  and  my  father,"  she  declared,  "agreed  in 
writing  you  would  share  the  profits  always."  Mr. 
Hallowell  looked  from  his  niece  to  his  lawyer. 
The  lawyer,  eying  him  apprehensively,  nodded. 

29 


Vera,  the  Medium 

With  the  patient  voice  of  one  who  tried  to  reason 
with  an  unreasonable  child,  Mr.  Hallowell  be 
gan.  "Helen,"  he  said,  "I  have  told  you  many 
times  there  never  was  such  an  agreement.  There 
was  a  verbal " 

"And  I  repeat,  I  saw  it,"  said  Miss  Coates. 

"When?"   asked  Hallowell. 

"I  saw  it  first  when  I  was  fifteen,"  answered 
the  young  woman  steadily,  "and  two  years  later, 
before  mother  died,  she  showed  it  to  me  again. 
It  was  with  father's  papers." 

"Miss  Coates,"  asked  the  Judge,  "where  is 
this  agreement  now?" 

For  a  moment  Miss  Coates  hesitated.  Her  dis 
like  for  Gaylor  was  so  evident  that,  to  make  it 
less  apparent,  she  lowered  her  eyes.  "My  uncle 
should  be  able  to  tell  you,"  she  said  evenly.  "  He 
was  my  father's  executor.  But,  when  he  re 
turned  my  father's  papers" — she  paused  and 
then,  although  her  voice  fell  to  almost  a  whisper, 
continued  defiantly,  "the  agreement  was  not  with 
them." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  To  assure  him 
self  the  others  had  heard  as  he  did,  Mr.  Hallowell 
glanced  quickly  from  Winthrop  to  Gaylor.  He  half 
rose  from  his  chair  and  leaned  across  the  table. 

"What!"   he  demanded. 
30 


Vera,  the  Medium 

His  niece  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"You  heard  what  I  said/'  she  answered. 

The  old  man  leaned  farther  forward. 

"So!"  he  cried;  "so!  I  am  not  only  doing 
you  an  injustice,  but  I  am  a  thief!  Mr.  Win- 
throp,"  he  cried  appealingly,  "do  you  appreciate 
the  seriousness  of  this  ? " 

Winthrop  nodded  cheerfully.  "It's  certainly 
pretty  serious,"  he  assented. 

"It  is  so  serious,"  cried  Mr.  Hallowell,  "that  I 
welcome  you  into  this  matter.  Now,  we  will  set 
tle  it  once  and  forever."  He  turned  to  his  niece. 
"I  have  tried  to  be  generous,"  he  cried;  "I  have 
tried  to  be  kind,  and  you  insult  me  in  my  own 
house."  He  pressed  the  button  that  summoned 
the  butler  from  the  floor  below.  "Gentlemen, 
this  interview  is  at  an  end.  From  now  on  this 
matter  is  in  the  hands  of  my  lawyer.  We  will 
settle  this  in  the  courts." 

With  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  that  was  an 
acceptance  of  his  challenge,  Miss  Coates  rose. 

"That  is  satisfactory  to  me,"  she  said.  Win 
throp  turned  to  Mr.  Hallowell. 

"Could  I  have  a  few  minutes'  talk  with  Judge 
Gaylor  now?"  he  asked.  "Not  as  anybody's 
counsel,"  he  explained;  "just  as  an  old  'enemy' 
of  his?" 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Well,  not  here,"  protested  the  old  man  queru 
lously.  "I'm — I'm  expecting  some  friends  here. 
Judge,  take  Mr.  Winthrop  to  the  drawing-room 
downstairs."  He  turned  to  Garrett,  who  had 
appeared  in  answer  to  his  summons,  and  told  him 
to  bring  Dr.  Rainey  to  the  library.  The  butler  left 
the  room  and,  as  Gaylor  and  Winthrop  followed, 
the  latter  asked  Miss  Coates  if  he  might  expect  to 
see  her  at  the  "Office."  She  told  him  that  she 
was  now  on  her  way  there.  Without  acknowl 
edging  the  presence  of  her  uncle,  she  had  started 
to  follow  the  others,  when  Mr.  Hallowell  stopped 
her. 

After  they  were  alone,  for  a  moment  he  sat 
staring  at  her,  his  eyes  filled  with  dislike  and  with 
a  suggestion  of  childish  spite.  "  I  might  as  well 
tell  you,"  he  began,  "that  after  what  you  said 
this  morning,  I  will  never  give  you  a  single  dollar 
of  my  money." 

The  tone  in  which  his  niece  replied  to  him  was 
no  more  conciliatory  than  his  own.  "You  can 
not  give  it  to  me,"  she  answered,  "  because  it  is  not 
yours  to  give."  As  though  to  add  impressiveness 
to  what  she  was  about  to  say,  or  to  prevent  his 
interrupting  her,  she  raised  her  hand.  So  inter 
ested  in  each  other  were  the  old  man  and  the  girl 
that  neither  noticed  the  appearance  in  the  door 

32 


Vera,  the  Medium 

of  Dr.  Rainey  and  the  butler,  who  halted,  hesitat 
ing,  waiting  permission  to  enter. 

"That  money  belongs  to  me,"  said  Miss  Coates 
slowly,  "and  as  sure  as  my  mother  is  in  Heaven 
and  her  spirit  is  guiding  me,  that  money  will 
be  given  me." 

In  the  pause  that  followed,  a  swift  and  singu 
lar  change  came  over  the  face  of  Mr.  Hallowell. 
He  stared  at  his  niece  as  though  fascinated. 
His  lower  lip  dropped  in  awe.  The  look  of  hos 
tility  gave  way  to  one  of  intense  interest.  His 
voice  was  hardly  louder  than  a  whisper. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"    he  demanded. 

The  girl  looked  at  him,  uncomprehending. 
"What  do  I  mean?"  she  repeated. 

"When  you  said,"  he  stammered  eagerly,  "that 
the  spirit  of  your  mother  was  guiding  you,  what 
did  you  mean  ? " 

In  the  doorway,  Rainey  and  the  butler  started. 
Each  threw  at  the  other  a  quick  glance  of  con 
cern. 

"Why,"  exclaimed  the  girl  impatiently,  "her 
influence,  her  example,  what  she  taught  me." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  old  man.  He  leaned 
back  with  an  air  almost  of  disappointment. 

"When  she  was  alive?"   he  said. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  the  girl. 
33 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Of  course,"  repeated  the  uncle.  "I  thought 
you  meant — "  He  looked  suspiciously  at  her 
and  shook  his  head.  "Never  mind,"  he  added. 
"Well,"  he  went  on  cynically,  striving  to  cover 
up  the  embarrassment  of  the  moment,  "your 
mother's  spirit  will  probably  feel  as  deep  an  in 
terest  in  her  brother  as  in  her  daughter.  We 
shall  see,  we  shall  see  which  of  us  two  she  is  going 
to  help."  He  turned  to  Garrett  and  Rainey  in 
the  hall.  "Take  my  niece  to  the  door,  Garrett," 
he  directed. 

As  soon  as  Miss  Coates  had  disappeared, 
Hallowell  turned  to  Rainey,  his  face  lit  with 
pleased  and  childish  anticipation. 

"Well,"  he  whispered  eagerly,  "is  she  here?" 

Rainey  nodded  and  glanced  in  the  direction 
opposite  to  the  one  Miss  Coates  had  taken. 
"She's  been  waiting  half  an  hour.  And  the  Pro 
fessor  too." 

"  Bring  them  at  once/'  commanded  Mr.  Hallo- 
well  excitedly.  "And  then  shut  the  door — and — • 
and  tell  the  Judge  I  can't  see  him — tell  him  I'm 
too  tired  to  see  him.  Understand  ?" 

Rainey  peered  cautiously  over  the  railing  of 
the  stairs  to  the  first  floor,  and  then  beckoned 
to  some  one  who  apparently  was  waiting  at  the 
end  of  the  hall. 

34 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Miss  Vera,  sir/'  he  announced,  "and  Pro 
fessor  Vance." 

Although  but  lately  established  in  New  York, 
the  persons  Dr.  Rainey  introduced  had  already 
made  themselves  comparatively  well  known.  For 
the  last  six  weeks  as  "headliners"  at  one  of  the 
vaudeville  theatres,  and  as  entertainers  at  private 
houses,  under  the  firm  name  of  "The  Vances," 
they  had  been  giving  an  exhibition  of  code  and 
cipher  signalling.  They  called  it  mind-reading. 
During  the  day,  at  the  house  of  Vance  and  his 
wife,  the  girl,  as  "Vera,  the  Medium,"  furnished 
to  all  comers  memories  of  the  past  or  news  of 
the  future.  In  their  profession,  in  all  of  its 
branches,  the  man  and  the  girl  were  past  masters. 
They  knew  it  from  the  A,  B,  C  of  the  dream 
book  to  the  post-graduate  work  of  projecting  from 
a  cabinet  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  As  the  occasion 
offered  and  paid  best,  they  were  mind-readers, 
clairvoyants,  materializing  mediums,  test  mediums. 
From  them,  a  pack  of  cards,  a  crystal  globe,  the 
lines  of  the  human  hand,  held  no  secrets.  They 
found  lost  articles,  cast  horoscopes,  gave  advice 
in  affairs  of  the  heart,  of  business  and  speculation, 
uttered  warnings  of  journeys  over  seas  and  against 
a  smooth-shaven  stranger.  They  even  stooped  to 

35 


Vera,  the  Medium 

foretell  earthquakes,  or  caused  to  drop  fluttering 
from  the  ceiling  a  letter  straight  from  the  Himala 
yas.  Among  those  who  are  the  gypsies  of  the 
cities,  they  were  the  aristocrats  of  their  calling,  and 
to  them  that  calling  was  as  legitimate  a  business 
as  is,  to  the  roadside  gypsy,  the  swapping  of 
horses.  The  fore-parents  of  each  had  followed 
that  same  calling,  and  to  the  children  it  was  com 
monplace  and  matter-of-fact.  It  held  no  adven 
ture,  no  moral  obloquy. 

"  Prof."  Paul  Vance  was  a  young  man  of  under 
forty  years.  He  looked  like  a  fox.  He  had  red 
eyes,  alert  and  cunning,  a  long,  sharp-pointed 
nose,  a  pointed  red  beard,  and  red  eyebrows  that 
slanted  upward.  His  hair,  standing  erect  in  a 
pompadour,  and  his  uplifted  eyebrows  gave  him 
the  watchful  look  of  the  fox  when  he  hears  sud 
denly  the  hound  baying  in  pursuit.  But  no  one 
had  ever  successfully  pursued  Vance.  No  one 
had  ever  driven  him  into  a  corner  from  which, 
either  pleasantly,  or  with  raging  indignation,  he 
was  not  able  to  free  himself.  Seven  years  before 
he  had  disloyally  married  out  of  the  "  profession " 
and  for  no  other  reason  than  that  he  was  in  love 
with  the  woman  he  married.  She  had  come  to 
seek  advice  from  the  spirit-world  in  regard  to 


Vera,  the  Medium 

taking  a  second  husband.  After  several  visits 
the  spirit-world  had  advised  Vance  to  advise  her 
to  marry  Vance. 

She  did  so,  and  though  the  man  was  still  in 
love  with  his  wife,  he  had  not  found  her,  in  his 
work,  the  assistance  he  had  hoped  she  might  be. 
She  still  was  a  "believer";  in  the  technical  vernac 
ular  of  her  husband — "a  dope."  Not  even  the 
intimate  knowledge  she  had  gained  behind  the 
scenes  could  persuade  her  that  Paul,  her  hus 
band,  was  not  in  constant  communication  with 
the  spirit-world,  or  that,  if  he  wished,  he  could 
not  read  the  thoughts  that  moved  slowly  through 
her  pretty  head. 

At  the  time  of  his  marriage,  the  girl  Vera,  then 
a  child  of  fourteen,  had  written  to  Vance  for  help. 
She  was  ill,  without  money,  and  asked  for  work. 
To  him  she  was  known  as  the  last  of  a  long  line 
of  people  who  had  always  been  professional 
mediums  and  spiritualists,  and,  out  of  charity 
and  from  a  sense  of  noblesse  oblige  to  one  of  the 
elect  of  the  profession,  Vance  had  made  her  his 
assistant.  He  had  never  regretted  having  done 
so.  The  bread  cast  upon  the  waters  was  returned 
a  thousandfold.  From  the  first,  the  girl  brought 
in  money.  And  his  wife,  the  older  of  the  two, 
had  welcomed  her  as  a  companion.  After  a 

37 


Vera,  the  Medium 

fashion  the  Vances  had  adopted  her.  In  the  ad 
vertisements  she  was  described  as  their  "ward." 

Vera  now  was  twenty-one,  tall,  wonderfully 
graceful,  and  of  the  most  enchanting  loveliness. 
Her  education  had  been  cosmopolitan.  In  the 
largest  cities  of  America  she  had  met  persons  of 
every  class — young  women,  old  women,  mothers 
with  married  sons  and  daughters;  women  of  so 
ciety  as  it  is  exploited  in  the  Sunday  supplements; 
school-girls,  shop-girls,  factory-girls — all  had  told 
her  their  troubles;  and  men  of  every  condition 
had  come  to  scoff  and  had  remained  to  express, 
more  or  less  offensively,  their  admiration.  Some 
of  the  younger  of  these,  after  a  first  visit,  returned 
the  day  following,  and  each  begged  the  beautiful 
priestess  of  the  occult  to  fly  with  him,  to  live  with 
him,  to  marry  him.  When  this  happened  Vera 
would  touch  a  button,  and  "Mannie"  Day,  who 
admitted  visitors,  and  later,  in  the  hall,  searched 
their  hats  and  umbrellas  for  initials,  came  on  the 
run  and  threw  the  infatuated  one  out  upon  a  cold 
and  unfeeling  sidewalk. 

So  Vera  had  seen  both  the  seamy  side  of  life 
and,  in  the  drawing-rooms  where  Vance  and  she 
exhibited  their  mind-reading  tricks,  had  been 
made  much  of  by  great  ladies  and,  for  an  hour  as 
brief  as  Cinderella's,  had  looked  upon  a  world  of 

38 


Vera,  the  Medium 

kind  and  well-bred  people.  Since  she  was  four 
teen,  for  seven  years,  this  had  been  her  life — a 
life  as  open  to  the  public  as  the  life  of  an  actress, 
as  easy  of  access  as  that  of  the  stenographer  in 
the  hotel  lobby.  As  a  result,  the  girl  had  encased 
herself  in  a  defensive  armor  of  hardness  and  dis 
trust,  a  protection  which  was  rendered  futile  by 
the  loveliness  of  her  face,  by  the  softness  of  her 
voice,  by  the  deep,  brooding  eyes,  and  the  fine 
forehead  on  which,  like  a  crown,  rested  the  black 
waves  of  her  hair. 

In  her  work  Vera  accepted,  without  question, 
the  parts  to  which  Vance  assigned  her.  When 
in  their  mummeries  they  were  successful,  she 
neither  enjoyed  the  credulity  of  those  they  had 
tricked  nor  was  sobered  with  remorse.  In  the 
world  Vance  found  a  certain  number  of  people 
with  money  who  demanded  to  be  fooled.  It  was 
his  business  and  hers  to  meet  that  demand.  If 
ever  the  conscience  of  either  stirred  restlessly, 
Vance  soothed  it  by  the  easy  answer  that  if  they 
did  not  take  the  money  some  one  else  would.  It 
was  all  in  the  day's  work.  It  was  her  profession. 

As  she  entered  the  library  of  Mr.  Hallowell, 
which,  with  Vance,  she  already  had  visited  several 
times,  she  looked  like  a  child  masquerading  in 
her  mother's  finery.  She  suggested  an  ingenue 

39 


Vera,  the  Medium 

who  had  been  suddenly  sent  on  in  the  role  of  the 
Russian  adventuress.  Her  slight  girl's  figure  was 
draped  in  black  lace.  Her  face  Was  shaded  by  a 
large  picture-hat,  heavy  with  drooping  ostrich 
feathers;  around  her  shoulders  was  a  necklace  of 
jade,  and  on  her  wrists  many  bracelets  of  silver 
gilt.  When  she  moved  they  rattled.  As  the  girl 
advanced,  smiling,  to  greet  Mr.  Hallowell,  she 
suddenly  stopped,  shivered  slightly,  and  threw  her 
right  arm  across  her  eyes.  Her  left  arm  she 
stretched  out  over  the  table. 

"Give  me  your  hand!'*  she  commanded.  Du 
biously,  with  a  watchful  glance  at  Vance,  Mr. 
Hallowell  leaned  forward  and  took  her  hand. 

"You  have  been  ill,"  cried  the  girl;  "very  ill 
— I  see  you — I  see  you  in  a  kind  of  faint — very 
lately."  Her  voice  rose  excitedly.  "Yes,  last 
night." 

Mr.  Hallowell  protested  with  indignation. 
"You  read  that  in  the  morning  paper,"  he  said. 

Vera  lowered  her  arm  from  her  eyes  and  turned 
them  reproachfully  on  him. 

"  I  don't  read  the  Despatch"  she  answered. 

Mr.  Hallowell  drew  back  suspiciously.  "I 
didn't  say  it  was  the  Despatch"  he  returned. 

Vance  quickly  interposed.  "You  don't  have 
to  say  it,"  he  explained  with  glibness;  "you 

40 


Vera,  the  Medium 

thought  it.  And  Vera  read  your  thoughts.  You 
were  thinking  of  the  Despatch,  weren't  you  ?  Well, 
there  you  are!  It's  wonderful!" 

"Wonderful?  Nonsense!"  mocked  Mr.  Hal- 
lowell.  "She  did  read  it  in  the  paper  or  Rainey 
told  her." 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders  patiently. 
"  If  you  would  rather  find  out  you  were  ill  from 
the  newspapers  than  from  the  spirit-world,"  she 
inquired,  "why  do  you  ask  me  here  ?" 

"I  ask  you  here,  young  woman,"  exclaimed  Hal- 
lowell,  sinking  back  in  his  chair,  "because  1  hoped 
you  would  tell  me  something  I  can't  learn  from 
the  newspapers.  But  you  haven't  been  able  to  do 
it  yet.  My  dear  young  lady,"  exclaimed  the  old 
man  wistfully,  "I  want  to  believe,  but  I  must  be 
convinced.  No  tricks  with  me!  I  can  explain 
how  you  might  have  found  out  everything  you 
have  told  me.  Give  me  a  sign!"  He  beat  the 
flat  of  his  hand  upon  the  table.  "Show  me  some 
thing  I  can't  explain!" 

"Mr.  Hallowell  is  quite  right,  Vera,"  said 
Vance.  "He  is  entering  what  is  to  him  a  new 
world,  full  of  mysteries,  and  that  caution  which 
in  this  world  has  made  him  so  successful " 

With  an  exclamation,  Hallowell  cut  short  the 
patter  of  the  showman. 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  interrupted  petulantly;  "I  tell 
you,  I  want  to  believe.  Convince  me." 

Considering  the  situation  with  pursed  lips  and 
thoughtful  eyes,  Vera  gazed  at  the  old  man, 
frowning.  Finally  she  asked,  "Have  you  wit 
nessed  our  demonstrations  of  mind-reading  ? " 

Mr.  Hallowell  snorted.  "Certainly  not,"  he  re 
plied;  "it's  a  trick!" 

"A  trick!"  cried  the  girl  indignantly,  "to  read 
a  man's  mind — to  see  right  through  your  fore 
head,  through  your  skull,  into  your  brain  ?  Is 
that  a  trick?"  She  turned  sharply  to  Vance. 
"Show  him!"  she  commanded;  "show  him!" 
She  crossed  rapidly  to  the  window  and  stood 
looking  down  into  the  street,  with  her  back  to 
the  room. 

Vance,  with  his  back  turned  to  Vera,  stood 
close  to  the  table,  on  the  other  side  of  which  Hal 
lowell  was  reclining  in  his  arm-chair.  Vance 
picked  up  a  pen-holder. 

"Think  of  what  I  have  in  my  hand,  please," 
he  said.  "What  is  this,  Vera?"  he  asked.  The 
girl,  gazing  from  the  window  at  the  traffic  in  the 
avenue  below  her,  answered  with  indifference, 
"A  pen-holder." 

"Yes,  what  about  it?"    snapped  Vance. 

"Gold  pen-holder,"  Vera  answered  more  rap- 
42 


Vera,  the  Medium 

idly.  "Much  engraving — initials  S.  H. — Mr.  Hal- 
lowell's  initials " 

"There  is  a  date  too.     Can  you " 

"December — "   Vera  hesitated. 

"Go  on,"  commanded  Vance. 

"Twenty-five,  one,  eight,  eight,  six;  one  thou 
sand  eight  hundred  and  eighty-six."  She  moved 
her  shoulders  impatiently. 

"Oh,  tell  him  to  think  of  something  difficult," 
she  said. 

From  behind  Mr.  HalloweH's  chair  Rainey 
signalled  to  Vance  to  take  from  the  table  a  pho 
tograph  frame  of  silver  which  held  the  picture  of 
a  woman. 

Vance  picked  it  up,  holding  it  close  to  him. 

"What  have  I  here,  Vera  ?"   he  asked. 

Hallowell,  seeing  what  Vance  held  in  his  hand, 
leaned  forward.  "Put  that  down!"  he  com 
manded.  But  Vera  had  already  begun  to  answer. 

"A  picture,  a  picture  of  a  young  woman.  Ask 
him  to  think  of  who  it  is  and  I  will  tell  him." 

At  the  words  Mr.  Hallowell  hesitated,  frowned, 
and  then  nodded. 

"It  is  his  sister,"  called  Vera.  "Her  name 
was — I  seem  to  get  a  'Catherine' — yes,  that's 
it;  Catherine  Coates.  She  is  no  longer  with  us. 
She  passed  into  the  spirit-world  three  years  ago." 

43 


Vera,  the  Medium 

The  girl  turned  suddenly  and  approached  the 
table,  holding  her  head  high,  as  though  offended. 
"How  do  you  explain  that  trick  ?"  she  demanded. 

Mr.  Hallowell  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair. 
"Oh,  the  picture's  been  on  my  desk  each  time 
you've  been  here,"  he  answered  dubiously. 
"Rainey  could  have  told  you." 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  didn't,"  said  Rainey. 

Hallowell's  eyes  lightened  with  interest.  "Didn't 
you?"  he  asked.  He  turned  to  Vera.  "If  you 
can  read  my  mind,"  he  challenged — "you,"  he 
added,  pointing  at  Vance,  "keep  out  of  this  now 
— tell  me  of  what  I  am  thinking."  As  Vance 
drew  back,  Rainey  and  himself  exchanged  a  quick 
glance  of  apprehension,  but  the  girl  promptly 
closed  her  eyes,  and  at  once,  in  a  dull,  measured 
tone,  began  to  speak. 

"You  were  thinking  you  would  like  to  ask  a 
question  of  some  one  in  the  spirit,"  she  recited. 
"But  you  are  afraid.  You  do  not  trust  me.  You 
will  wait  until  I  give  you  a  sign;  then  you  will  ask 
that  question  of  some  one  dear  to  you,  who  has 
passed  beyond,  and  she  will  answer,  and  your 
troubles  will  be  at  an  end."  She  opened  her  eyes 
and  stared  at  Mr.  Hallowell  like  one  coming  out  of 
a  dream.  "What  did  I  say  ?"  she  asked.  "Was 
I  right?" 

44 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Hallowell  sank  back  in  his  chair,  shaking  his 
head. 

"Yes,"  he  began  grudgingly,  "but- 

With  an  eagerness  hardly  concealed,  Vance 
interrupted. 

"What  is  the  question  you  wish  to  ask?"  he 
begged. 

With  a  frown  of  suspicion,  Hallowell  turned 
from  him  to  Rainey. 

"I  don't  think  I  ought  to  let  them  know,"  he 
questioned;  "do  you?"  But  his  attention  was 
sharply  diverted. 

Vera,  in  a  hushed  and  solemn  voice,  called  for 
silence. 

"My  control,"  she  explained — her  tone  was  deep 
and  awestruck — "is  trying  to  communicate  with 


me." 


Vance  gave  an  exclamation  of  concern.  The 
prospect  of  the  phenomena  Vera  promised  seemed 
to  fill  him  with  delightful  expectations.  "Be 
very  quiet,"  he  cautioned,  "do  not  disturb  her." 

Deeply  impressed,  Mr.  Hallowell  struggled 
from  his  chair.  Unaided,  he  moved  to  below  the 
table  and  leaning  against  it  looked,  with  unwill 
ing  but  fascinated  interest,  at  Vera's  uplifted 
face. 

"Some  one  in  the  spirit,"  Vera  chanted,  in  an 
45 


Vera,  the  Medium 

unemotional,  drugged  voice,  "wishes  to  speak  co 
Mr.  Hallowell.    Give  me  your  hand." 

"Quick!"  directed  Vance,  "give  her  your  hand. 
Take  her  hand." 

"Yes,  he  is  here,"  Vera  continued.  "A  woman 
has  a  message  for  you,  she  is  standing  close  be 
side  you.  She  is  holding  out  her  arms.  And  she 
is  trying,  so  hard,  to  tell  you  something.  What 
is  it?"  the  girl  questioned.  "Oh,  what  is  it? 
Tell  me,"  she  begged.  "Can't  you  tell  me  ?" 

Hallowell  eyed  her  greedily,  waiting  almost 
without  breathing  for  her  words.  The  hand  with 
which  he  held  hers  crushed  her  rings  into  her 
fingers. 

"  What  sort  ? " — whispered  the  old  man.  "  What 
sort  of  a  woman  ?" 

With  eyes  still  closed,  swaying  slightly  and  with 
abrupt  shudders  running  down  her  body,  the 
girl  continued  in  dull,  fateful  tones. 

"She  is  a  fair  woman;  about  forty-five.  She 
is  speaking.  She  calls  to  you, '  Brother,  brother/  ' 
Vera's  voice  rose  excitedly.  "It  is  the  woman  in 
the  picture;  your  sister!  Catherine!  I  see  it 
written  above  her  head — Catherine.  In  letters  of 
light."  She  turned  suddenly  and  fiercely.  "Ask 
her  your  question!"  she  commanded.  "Ask  her 
your  question,  now!" 

46 


Vera,  the  Medium 

By  the  sudden  swaying  forward  of  Vance  and 
Rainey,  in  the  intent  look  in  their  eyes,  it  was 
evident  that  a  crisis  had  approached.  But  Mr. 
Hallowell,  terrified  and  trembling,  shrank  back. 
His  voice  broke  hysterically.  "No,  no!"  he 
pleaded.  Both  anger  and  disappointment  showed 
in  the  face  of  Vance  and  Rainey;  but  the  girl,  as 
though  detached  from  any  human  concerns,  con 
tinued  unmoved.  "I  see  another  figure,"  she 
recited.  "A  young  girl,  but  she  is  of  this  world. 
I  seem  to  get  an  H.  Yes.  Helen,  in  letters  of 
fire." 

"My  niece,  Helen!"  Hallowell  whispered 
hoarsely. 

"Yes,  your  niece,"  chanted  the  girl.  Her  voice 
rose  and  thrilled.  "And  I  see  much  gold,"  she 
cried.  "Between  the  two  women,  heaps  of  gold. 
Everywhere  I  look  I  see  gold.  And,  now,  the 
other  woman,  your  sister,  is  trying  to  speak  to 
you.  Listen!  She  calls  to  you,  'Brother!' J 

So  centred  was  the  interest  of  those  in  the  room, 
so  compelling  the  sound  of  the  girl's  voice,  that, 
unnoticed,  the  sliding  doors  to  the  library  were 
slipped  apart.  Unobserved,  Judge  Gaylor  and 
Winthrop  halted  in  the  doorway.  To  the  Judge 
the  meaning  of  the  scene  was  instantly  apparent. 
His  face  flushed  furiously.  Winthrop,  uncom- 

47 


Vera,  the  Medium 

prehending,  gazed  unconcerned  over  Gaylor' s 
shoulder.  The  voice  of  Vera  rose  hysterically 
to  her  climax. 

"She  bids  me  tell  you,"  Vera  cried;  "  'Tell  my 
brother- 

Gaylor  swept  toward  her. 

"What  damned  farce  is  this  ?"  he  shouted. 

The  effect  of  the  interruption  was  instant  and 
startling.  Mr.  Hallowell,  who,  in  the  last  few 
minutes,  had  believed  he  was  listening  to  a  voice 
from  the  dead,  collapsed  upon  the  shoulder  of 
Rainey,  who  sprang  to  support  him.  Like  a 
somnambulist  wrenched  from  sleep,  Vera  gave  a 
scream  of  fright,  half  genuine,  half  assumed,  and 
swayed  as  though  about  to  fall.  Vance  caught  her 
in  his  arms.  He  turned  on  Gaylor,  his  cunning 
red  eyes  flashing  evilly. 

"You  brute!"  he  cried;  "you  might  have  killed 
her." 

Between  her  sobs,  Vera,  her  head  upon  the 
shoulder  of  Vance,  whispered  a  question.  As 
quickly,  under  cover  of  muttered  sympathy,  Vance 
answered:  "Gaylor.  The  Judge." 

Still  slightly  swaying,  Vera  stood  upright.  She 
passed  her  hand  vaguely  before  her  eyes.  "Where 
am  I  ?"  she  asked  feebly.  "Where  am  I  ?" 

Gaylor  shook  his  fist  at  the  girl. 
48 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"You  know  where  you  are!"  he  thundered; 
"and  you  know  where  you're  going — you're  going 
to  jail!" 

In  the  hush  that  followed  Vera  drew  herself  to 
her  full  height.  She  regarded  Gaylor  wonder- 
ingly,  haughtily,  as  though  he  were  some  drunken 
intruder  from  the  street. 

"Are  you  speaking  to  me?"    she  asked. 

"Yes,  to  you,"  shouted  the  lawyer.  "You're 
an  impostor,  and  a  swindler,  and — and " 

Winthrop  pushed  between  them. 

"Yes,  and  she's  a  woman,"  he  said  briskly. 
"If  you  want  a  row,  talk  to  the  man." 

To  this  point  the  scene  had  brought  to  Vera 
no  emotion  save  the  excitement  that  is  felt  by 
the  one  who  is  struggling  to  escape.  The  ap 
pearance  of  a  champion  added  a  new  interest. 
Through  no  fault  of  her  own,  she  had  learned  by 
experience  that  to  the  one  man  who  annoyed  her 
there  always  were  six  to  spring  to  her  protection. 
So  the  glance  she  covertly  turned  upon  Winthrop 
was  one  less  of  gratitude  than  curiosity. 

But  at  the  first  sight  of  him  the  girl  started, 
her  eyes  lit  with  recognition,  her  face  flushed. 
And  then,  although  the  man  was  in  no  way  re 
garding  her,  her  eyes  filled,  and  in  mortification 
and  dismay  she  blushed  crimson. 

49 


Vera,  the  Medium 

His  anger  still  unsatisfied,  Gaylor  turned  upon 
Vance. 

"And  you,"  he  cried;  "you're  going  to  jail  too. 
I'll  drive " 

The  voice  of  Mr.  Hallowell,  shaken  with  pain 
and  distress,  rose  feebly,  beseechingly.  "Henry!" 
he  begged.  "I  can't  stand  it!" 

" Judge  Gaylor!"  thundered  Rainey,  "I  won't 
be  responsible  if  you  keep  this  up." 

With  an  exclamation  of  remorse,  Vera  ran  to 
the  side  of  the  old  man.  With  Rainey  on  his 
other  hand,  she  raised  him  upright  upon  his 
feet. 

"Lean  on  me,"  begged  the  girl  breathlessly. 
"I'm  very  strong.  Lean  on  me." 

Mr.  Hallowell  shook  his  head.  "No,  child," 
he  protested,  "not  you."  He  turned  to  his  old 
friend.  "You  help  me,  Henry,"  he  begged. 

With  the  authority  of  the  medical  man,  Rainey 
waved  Vance  into  the  bedroom.  "Close  those 
windows,"  he  ordered.  "You  help  me!"  he 
commanded  of  Gaylor.  "Put  your  arm  under 
him." 

Mr.  Hallowell,  protesting  feebly  and  leaning 
heavily  upon  the  two  men,  stumbled  into  the  bed 
room,  and  the  door  was  shut  behind  him. 

For  a  moment  the  girl  and  the  man  stood  in 


Vera,  the  Medium 

silence,  and  then,  as  though  suddenly  conscious 
of  her  presence,  Winthrop  turned  and  smiled. 

The  girl  did  not  answer  his  smile.  From  under 
the  shadow  of  the  picture-hat  and  the  ostrich 
feathers  her  eyes  regarded  him  searchingly,  watch 
fully. 

For  the  first  time,  Winthrop  had  the  chance 
to  observe  her.  He  saw  that  she  was  very  young, 
that  her  clothes  cruelly  disguised  her,  that  she  was 
only  a  child  masquerading  as  a  brigand,  that  her 
face  was  distractingly  lovely.  Having  noted  this, 
the  fact  that  she  had  driven  several  grown  men  to 
abuse  and  vituperation  struck  him  as  being  ex 
tremely  humorous;  nor  did  he  try  to  conceal  his 
amusement.  But  the  watchfulness  in  the  eyes 
of  the  girl  did  not  relax. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  interfered  with  your  seance,"  said 
the  District  Attorney. 

The  girl  regarded  him  warily,  like  a  fencer  fix 
ing  her  eyes  on  those  of  her  opponent.  There 
was  a  pause  which  lasted  so  long  that  had  the  si 
lence  continued  it  would  have  been  rude.  "Well," 
the  girl  returned  at  last,  timidly,  "that's  what  the 
city  expects  you  to  do,  is  it  not  ? " 

Winthrop  laughed.  "How  did  you  know  who 
I  was?"  he  asked,  and  then  added  quickly,  "Of 
course,  you're  a  mind-reader." 


Vera,  the  Medium 

For  the  first  time  the  girl  smiled.  Winthrop 
found  it  a  charming  smile,  wistful  and  confiding. 

"I  don't  have  to  ask  the  spirit-world,"  she  said, 
"to  tell  me  who  is  District  Attorney  of  New  York." 

"Yes,"  said  the  District  Attorney;  "yes,  I 
suppose  you  have  to  be  pretty  well  acquainted 
with  some  of  the  laws — those  about  mediums  ? " 

"  If  you  knew  as  much  about  other  laws,"  be 
gan  Vera,  "as  I  do  about  the  law — "  She  broke 
off  and  again  smiled  upon  him. 

"Then  you  probably  know,"  said  Winthrop, 
"  that  what  our  excited  friend  said  to  you  just  now 
is  legally  quite  true?" 

The  smile  passed  from  the  face  of  the  girl. 
She  looked  at  the  young  man  with  fine  disdain, 
as  a  great  lady  might  reprove  with  a  glance  the 
man  who  snapped  a  camera  at  her. 

"Yes?"  she  asked.  "Well,  what  are  you  go 
ing  to  do  about  it — arrest  me  ? "  Mocking  him, 
in  a  burlesque  of  melodrama,  she  held  out  her 
arms.  "Don't  put  the  handcuffs  on  me,"  she 
begged. 

Winthrop  found  her  impudence  amusing;  and, 
with  the  charm  of  her  novelty,  he  was  conscious 
of  a  growing  conviction  that,  somewhere,  they 
had  met  before;  that  already  at  a  crisis  she  had 
come  into  his  life. 

52 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"I  won't  arrest  you,"  he  said  with  a  puzzled 
smile,  "on  one  condition." 

"Ah!"    mocked  Vera;    "he  is  generous." 

"And  the  condition  is,"  Winthrop  went  on 
seriously,  "that  you  tell  me  where  we  met  be- 
fore?" 

The  girl's  expression  became  instantly  mask- 
like.  To  learn  if  he  suspected  where  it  was  that 
they  had  met,  she  searched  his  face  quickly.  She 
was  reassured  that  of  the  event  he  had  no  real 
recollection. 

"That's  rather  difficult,  isn't  it,"  she  continued 
lightly,  "when  you  consider  I've  been  giving  ex 
hibitions  of  mind-readings  for  the  last  six  weeks 
on  Broadway,  and  in  the  homes  of  people  you 
probably  know?" 

"No,"  Winthrop  exclaimed  eagerly,  "it  wasn't 
in  a  theatre,  and  it  wasn't  in  a  private  house.  It 
was — "  he  shook  his  head  helplessly,  and  looked 
at  her  for  assistance.  "You  don't  know,  do 
you?" 

The  girl  regarded  him  steadily.  "How  should 
I  ?"  she  said.  And  then,  as  though  decided  upon 
a  course  of  action  of  the  wisdom  of  which  she 
was  uncertain,  she  laughed  uneasily. 

"But  the  spirits  would  know,"  she  said.  "I 
might  ask  them." 

S3 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Do!"  cried  Winthrop,  delightedly.  "How 
much  would  that  be  ?" 

As  though  to  reprove  his  flippancy,  the  girl 
frowned.  With  a  nervous  tremor,  which  this 
time  seeemd  genuine  enough,  she  threw  back  her 
head,  closed  her  eyes,  and  laid  her  arm  across  her 
forehead. 

Winthrop,  unobserved,  watched  her  with  a 
smile,  partly  of  amusement,  partly  on  account  of 
her  beauty,  of  admiration. 

"I  see — a  court-room,"  said  the  girl.  "It  is 
very  mean  and  bare.  It  is  somewhere  up  the 
State;  in  a  small  town.  Outside,  there  are  trees, 
and  the  sun  is  shining,  and  people  are  walking 
in  a  public  park.  Inside,  in  the  prisoner's  dock, 
there  is  a  girl.  She  has  been  arrested — for  theft. 
She  has  pleaded  guilty!  And  I  see — that  she 
has  been  very  ill — that  she  is  faint  from  shame — 
and  fear — and  lack  of  food.  And  there  is  a 
young  lawyer.  He  is  defending  her;  he  is  asking 
the  judge  to  be  merciful,  because  this  is  her  first 
offence,  because  she  stole  the  cloak  to  get  money 
to  take  her  where  she  had  been  promised  work. 
Because  this  is  his  first  case. 

Winthrop  gave  a  gasp  of  disbelief. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me — "  he  cried. 

"Hush!"  commanded  the  girl.  "And  he  per- 
54 


Vera,  the  Medium 

suades  the  judge  to  let  her  go,"  she  continued 
quickly,  her  voice  shaking,  "and  he  and  the  girl 
walk  out  of  the  court-house  together.  And  he 
talks  to  her  kindly,  and  gives  her  money  to  pay  her 
way  to  the  people  who  have  promised  her  work." 

Vera  dropped  her  arm,  and  stepping  back, 
faced  Winthrop.  Through  her  tears  her  eyes 
were  flashing  proudly,  gratefully;  the  feeling  that 
shook  her  made  her  voice  vibrate.  The  girl 
seemed  proud  of  her  tears,  proud  of  her  debt  of 
gratitude. 

"And  I've  never  forgotten  you,"  she  said,  her 
vioce  eager  and  trembling,  "  and  what  you  did  for 
me.  And  I've  watched  you  come  to  this  city,  and 
fight  it,  and  fight  it,  until  you  made  them  put 
you  where  you  are."  She  stopped  to  control  her 
voice,  and  smiled  at  him.  "And  that's  why  I 
knew  you  were  District  Attorney,"  she  said; 
"and  please — "  She  fumbled  in  the  mesh  purse 
at  her  waist  and  taking  a  bill  from  it,  threw  it 
upon  the  table.  "And  please,  there's  the  money 
I  owe  you,  and — and — I  thank  you — and  good- 
by."  She  turned  and  almost  ran  from  him 
toward  the  door  to  the  hall. 

"Stop!"    cried  Winthrop. 

Poised  for  flight,  the  girl  halted,  and  looked 
back. 

55 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"When  can  I  see  you  again?"  said  the  man. 
The  tone  made  it  less  a  question  than  a  command. 

In  a  manner  as  determined  as  his  own,  the  girl 
shook  her  head. 

"No!"   she  said. 

"I  must!"  returned  the  man. 

Again  the  girl  shook  her  head,  definitely,  finally. 

"  It  won't  help  you  in  your  work,"  she  pleaded, 


"to  come  to  see  me." 


"I  must!"  repeated  Winthrop  simply. 

The  eyes  of  the  girl  met  his,  appealingly,  de 
fiantly. 

"  You'll  be  sorry,"  said  the  girl. 

Winthrop  laughed  an  eager,  boyish  laugh. 
When  he  spoke  the  tenseness  in  his  voice  had 
gone.  His  tone  was  confident,  bantering. 

"Then  I  will  not  come  to  see  you,"  he  said. 

Uncertain,  puzzled,  Vera  looked  at  him  in  dis 
tress.  She  thought  he  was  mocking  her. 

"No?"  she  questioned. 

"I'll  come  to  see  Vera,  the  medium,"  he  ex 
plained. 

Vera  frowned,  and  then,  in  happy  embar 
rassment,  smiled  wistfully. 

"Oh,  well,"  she  stammered;  "of  course,  if 
you're  coming  to  consult  me  professionally — my 
hours  are  from  four  to  six." 

56 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Pll  be  there,"  cried  the  District  Attorney. 

Vera  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"What  day  will  you  come  ?"   she  demanded. 

"What  day!"  exclaimed  the  young  man  in 
dignantly.  "Why,  this  day!" 

Vera  gave  a  guilty,  frightened  laugh. 

"  Oh,  will  you  ? "  she  exclaimed  delightedly. 
She  clasped  her  fingers  in  a  gesture  of  dismay. 
"Oh,  I  hope  you  won't  be  sorry!"  she  cried. 

For  some  moments  the  District  Attorney  of 
New  York  stood  looking  at  the  door  through 
which  she  had  disappeared. 


57 


PART  II 

THE  home  of  the  Vances  was  in  Thirty-fifth 
Street,  nearly  opposite  the  Garrick  Theatre. 
It  was  one  of  a  row  of  old-fashioned  brick  houses 
with  high  steps.  As  the  seeker  after  truth  en 
tered  the  front  hall,  he  saw  before  him  the  stairs 
to  the  second  story;  on  his  right,  the  folding-doors 
of  the  "front  parlor,"  and  at  the  far  end  of  the 
hall,  a  single  door  that  led  to  what  was,  in  the  old 
days,  before  this  row  of  houses  had  been  converted 
into  offices,  the  family  dining-room.  To  Vera 
the  Vances  had  given  the  use  of  this  room  as  a 
"reception  parlor."  The  visitor  first  entered  the 
room  on  his  right,  from  it  passed  through  an 
other  pair  of  folding-doors  to  the  reception  parlor, 
and  then,  when  his  audience  was  at  an  end,  de 
parted  by  the  single  door  to  the  hall,  and  so,  to 
the  street. 

The  reception  parlor  bore  but  little  likeness  to 
a  cave  of  mystery.  There  were  no  shaded  lights, 
no  stuffed  alligator,  no  Indian  draperies,  no  black 
cat.  On  a  table,  in  the  centre,  under  a  heavy  and 

59 


Vera,  the  Medium 

hideous  chandelier  with  bronze  gas  jets,  was  a 
green  velvet  cushion.  On  this  nestled  an  innocent 
ball  of  crystal.  Beside  it  lay  the  ivory  knitting 
needle  with  which  Vera  pointed  out,  in  the  hand 
of  the  visitor,  those  lines  that  showed  he  would 
be  twice  married,  was  of  an  ambitious  tempera 
ment,  and  would  make  a  success  upon  the  stage. 
In  a  corner  stood  a  wooden  cabinet  that  resembled 
a  sentry  box  on  wheels.  It  was  from  this,  on 
certain  evenings,  before  a  select  circle  of  spiritual 
ists,  that  Vera  projected  the  ghosts  of  the  de 
parted.  Hanging  inside  the  cabinet  was  a  silver- 
gilt  crown  and  a  cloak  of  black  velvet,  lined  with 
purple  silk  and  covered  in  gold  thread  with  signs 
of  the  zodiac. 

Save  that  these  stage  properties  illustrated  the 
taste  of  Mabel  Vance,  the  room  was  of  no  in 
terest.  It  held  a  rubber  plant,  a  red  velvet  rock 
ing-chair,  across  the  back  of  which  Mrs.  Vance 
had  draped  a  Neapolitan  scarf;  an  upright  piano, 
upon  which  Emmanuel  Day,  or,  as  he  was  known 
to  the  cross-roads  of  Broadway  and  Forty-second 
Street,  "Mannie"  Day,  provoked  the  most  mar 
vellous  rag-time;  an  enlarged  photograph  in 
crayon,  of  Professor  Vance,  in  a  frock  coat  and 
lawn  tie,  a  china  bull-dog  coquettishly  decorated 
with  a  blue  bow,  and,  on  the  mantel-piece,  two  tall 

60 


Vera,  the  Medium 

beer  steins  and  a  hand  telephone.  From  the  long 
windows  one  obtained  a  view  of  the  iron  shutters 
of  the  new  department  store  in  Thirty-fourth 
Street,  and  of  a  garden,  just  large  enough  to 
contain  a  sumach  tree,  a  refrigerator,  and  the 
packing-case  in  which  the  piano  had  arrived. 

After  leaving  Winthrop,  without  waiting  for 
Vance,  Vera  had  returned  directly  to  the  house  in 
Thirty-fifth  Street,  and  locked  herself  in  her  room. 
And  although  "Mannie"  Day  had  already  ushered 
two  visitors  into  the  front  room,  Vera  had  not 
yet  come  downstairs.  In  consequence,  Mabel 
Vance  was  in  possession  of  the  reception  parlor. 

Mrs.  Vance  was  plump,  pink-and-blonde,  cred 
ulous  and  vulgar,  but  at  all  times  of  the  ut 
most  good-humor.  Her  admiration  for  Vera  was 
equalled  only  by  her  awe  of  her.  On  this  par 
ticular  afternoon,  although  it  already  was  after 
five  o'clock,  Mrs.  Vance  still  wore  a  short  dressing 
sack,  open  at  the  throat,  and  heavy  with  some 
what  soiled  lace.  But  her  blonde  hair  was  freshly 
"marcelled,"  and  her  nails  pink  and  shining.  In 
the  absence  of  Vera,  she  was  making  a  surrepti 
tious  and  guilty  use  of  the  telephone.  From  the 
fact  that  in  her  left  hand  she  held  the  Morning 
Telegraph  open  at  the  "previous  performances" 
of  the  horses,  and  that  the  page  had  been  cruelly 

61 


Vera,  the  Medium 

lacerated  by  a  hat  pin,  it  was  fair  to  suppose  that 
whoever  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire,  was 
tempting  her  with  the  closing  odds  at  the  races. 

In  her  speculations,  she  was  interrupted  by 
"Mannie"  Day,  who  entered  softly  through  the 
door  from  the  hall. 

"Mannie"  Day  was  a  youth  of  twenty-four. 
It  was  his  heart's  desire  to  be  a  "  Broad wayard." 
He  wanted  to  know  all  of  those,  and  to  be  known 
only  by  those,  who  moved  between  the  giant  pillars 
that  New  York  threw  into  the  sky  to  mark  her 
progress  North. 

He  knew  the  soiled  White  Way  as  the  oldest  in 
habitant  knows  the  single  street  of  the  Tillage. 
He  knew  it  from  the  Rathskellers  underground,  to 
the  roof  gardens  in  the  sky;  in  his  firmament 
the  stars  were  the  electric  advertisements  over 
Long  Acre  Square,  his  mother  earth  was  asphalt, 
the  breath  of  his  nostrils  gasolene,  the  Telegraph 
was  his  Bible.  His  grief  was  that  no  one  in  the 
Tenderloin  would  take  him  seriously;  would  be 
lieve  him  wicked,  wise,  predatory.  They  might 
love  him,  they  might  laugh  with  him,  they  might 
clamor  for  his  company;  in  no  flat  that  could 
boast  a  piano,  was  he  not,  on  his  entrance,  greeted 
with  a  shout;  but  the  real  Knights  of  the  High 
way  treated  him  always  as  the  questioning,  wide- 

62 


Vera,  the  Medium 

eyed  child.  In  spite  of  his  after-midnight  pallor,  in 
spite  of  his  honorable  scars  of  dissipation,  it  was 
his  misfortune  to  be  cursed  with  a  smile  that  was 
a  perpetual  plea  of  "not  guilty." 

"What  can  you  expect?"  an  outspoken  friend, 
who  made  a  living  as  a  wireless  wire-tapper,  had 
once  pointed  out  to  him.  "That  smile  of  yours 
could  open  a  safe.  It  could  make  a  show  girl  give 
up  money!  It's  an  alibi  for  everything  from  over- 
speeding  to  murder." 

Mannie,  as  he  listened,  flushed  with  mortifi 
cation.  From  that  moment  he  determined  that 
his  life  should  be  devoted  to  giving  the  lie  to  that 
smile,  to  that  outward  and  visible  sign  of  kind 
ness,  good-will,  and  innate  innocence.  As  yet, 
he  had  not  succeeded. 

He  interrupted  Mabel  at  the  telephone  to  in 
quire  the  whereabouts  of  Vera.  "There's  two 
girls  in  there,  now,"  he  said;  "waiting  to  have 
their  fortunes  doped." 

"Let  'em  wait!"  exclaimed  Mabel.  "Vera's 
upstairs  dressing."  In  her  eyes  was  the  baleful 
glare  of  the  plunger.  "What  was  that  you  give 
me  in  the  third  race?" 

At  the  first  touch  of  the  ruling  passion,  what 
interest  Mannie  may  have  felt  for  the  impatient 
visitors  vanished. 

63 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Not  in  the  third,"  he  corrected  briskly. 
"  Keene  entry  win  the  third." 

Mabel  appealed  breathlessly  to  the  telephone. 
"What  price  the  Keene  entry  in  the  third?" 
She  turned  to  Mannie  with  reproachful  eyes. 
"Even  money!"  she  complained. 

"That's  what  I  told  you,"  retorted  Mannie. 
He  lowered  his  voice,  and  gazed  apprehensively 
toward  the  front  parlor.  "  If  you  want  a  really 
good  thing,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "ask  Joe 
what  Pompadour  is  in  the  fifth!" 

Mabel  laughed  scornfully,  disappointedly. 

"Pompadour!"   she  mocked. 

"That's  right!"  cried  the  expert.  "That's  the 
one  daily  hint  from  Paris  to-day.  Joe  will  give  you 
thirty  to  one." 

Upon  the  defenceless  woman  he  turned  the  full 
force  of  his  accursed  smile.  "Put  five  on  for  me, 
Mabel?"  he  begged. 

With  unexpected  determination  of  character 
Mabel  declared  sharply  that  she  would  do  noth 
ing  of  the  sort. 

"Two,  then?"   entreated  the  boy. 

"Where,"  demanded  Mabel  unfeelingly,  "is 
the  twenty  you  owe  me  now  ? " 

The  abruptness  of  this  unsportsmanlike  blow 
below  the  belt  caused  Mannie  to  wince. 

64 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"How  do  7  know  where  it  is?"  he  protested. 
"As  long  as  you  haven't  got  it,  why  do  you  care 
where  it  is  ? "  He  heard  the  door  from  the  hall 
open  and,  turning,  saw  Vera.  He  appealed  to  her. 
"Vera,"  he  cried,  "you'll  loan  me  two  dollars? 
I  stand  to  win  sixty.  I'll  give  you  thirty." 

Vera  looked  inquiringly  at  Mabel.  "What  is  it, 
Mabel,"  she  asked;  "a  hand  book?" 

Mrs.  Vance  nodded  guiltily. 

"Mannie!"  exclaimed  Vera  gently  but  re 
proachfully,  "I  told  you  I  wouldn't  loan  you 
any  more  money  till  you  paid  Mabel  what  you've 
borrowed." 

"How  can  I  pay  Mabel  what  I  borrowed," 
demanded  Mannie,  "if  I  can't  borrow  the  money 
from  you  to  pay  her  ?  Only  two  dollars,  Vera ! " 

Vera  nodded  to  Mabel. 

Mabel,  at  the  phone,  called,  "Two  dollars  on 
Pompadour — to — win — for  Mannie  Day,"  and 
rang  off. 

"That  makes  thirty  for  you,"  exclaimed  Man 
nie  enthusiastically,  "and  twenty  I  owe  to  Mabel, 
and  that  leaves  me  ten." 

Mrs.  Vance,  no  longer  occupied  in  the  whirl 
pool  of  speculation,  for  the  first  time  observed 
that  Vera  had  changed  her  matronly  robe  of  black 
lace  for  a  short  white  skirt  and  a  white  shirt 

65 


Vera,  the  Medium 

waist.  She  noted  also  that  there  was  a  change  in 
Vera's  face  and  manner.  She  gave  an  impres 
sion  of  nervous  eagerness,  of  unrest.  Her  smile 
seemed  more  appealing,  wistful,  girlish.  She 
looked  like  a  child  of  fourteen. 

But  Mabel  was  concerned  more  especially  with 
the  robe  of  virgin  white. 

For  the  month,  which  was  July,  the  costume 
was  appropriate,  but,  in  the  opinion  of  Mabel, 
in  no  way  suited  to  the  priestess  of  the  occult 
and  the  mysterious. 

"Why,  Vera!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vance,  "what 
ever  have  you  got  on  ?  Ain't  you  going  to  receive 
visitors  ?  There's  ten  dollars  waiting  in  there 


now." 


In  sudden  apprehension,  Vera  looked  down  at 
her  spotless  garments. 

"Don't  I  look  nice  ?"    she  begged. 

"Of  course  you  look  nice,  dearie,"  Mabel 
assured  her,  "but  you  don't  look  like  no  fortune 
teller." 

"If  you  want  to  know  what  you  look  like,"  said 
Mannie  sternly,  "you  look  like  one  of  the  waiter 
girls  at  Childs's — that's  what  you  look  like." 

"And  your  crown!"  exclaimed  Mabel,  "and 
your  kimono.  Ain't  you  going  to  wear  your 
kimono  ? " 

66 


Vera,  the  Medium 

She  hastened  to  the  cabinet  and  produced  the 
cloak  of  black  velvet  and  spangles,  and  the  silver- 
gilt  crown. 

"No,  I  am  not!"  declared  Vera.  She  wore  the 
frightened  look  of  a  mutinous  child.  "I — I  look 
so — foolish  in  them!" 

Such    heresy    caused    Mannie    to    gasp    aloud: 

"You  look  grand  in  them,"  he  protested; 
"don't  she,  Mabel?" 

"Sure  she  does,"  assented  that  lady. 

"And  your  junk?"  demanded  Mannie,  re 
ferring  to  the  jade  necklace  and  the  gold-plated 
bracelets.  His  eyes  opened  in  sympathy.  "You 
haven't  pawned  them,  have  you?" 

"Pawned  them?"  laughed  Vera;  "I  couldn't 
get  anything  on  them!"  As  the  only  masculine 
point  of  view  available,  she  appealed  to  Mannie 
wistfully.  "Don't  you  like  me  better  this  way, 
Mannie  ?"  she  begged. 

But  that  critic  protested  violently. 

"Not  a  bit  like  it,"  he  cried.  "Now,  in  the 
gold  tiara  and  the  spangled  opera  cloak,"  he 
differentiated,  "you  look  like  a  picture  postal 
card!  You  got  Lotta  Faust's  blue  skirt  back  to 
Levey's.  But  not  in  the  white  goods !"  He  shook 
his  head  sadly,  firmly.  "You  look,  now,  like 
you  was  made  up  for  a  May-day  picnic  in  the 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Bronx,  and  they'd  picked  on  you  to  be  Queen  of 
the  May." 

Mabel  carried  the  much-admired  opera  cloak 
to  Vera,  and  held  it  out,  tempting  her. 

"  You'll  wear  it,  just  to  please  me  and  Mannie, 
won't  you,  dearie?"  she  begged.  Vera  retreated 
before  it  as  though  it  held  the  germs  of  contagion. 

"I  will  not,"  she  rebelled.  "I  hate  it!  When 
I  have  that  on,  I  feel — mean.  I  feel  as  mean  as 
though  I  were  picking  pennies  out  of  a  blind  man's 
hat."  Mannie  roared  with  delight. 

"Gee!"    he  shouted;    "but  that's  a  hot  one." 

"Besides,"  said  Vera  consciously,  "I'm — I'm 
expecting  some  one." 

The  manner  more  than  the  words  thrilled  Mabel 
with  the  most  joyful  expectations. 

She  exclaimed  excitedly.  "A  gentleman  friend, 
Vera?"  she  asked. 

That  Vera  shunned  all  young  men  had  been 
to  Mabel  a  source  of  wonder  and  of  pride.  Even 
when  the  young  men  were  the  friends  of  her 
husband  and  of  herself,  the  preoccupied  manner 
with  which  Vera  received  them  did  not  provoke 
in  Mabel  any  resentment.  It  rather  increased  her 
approbation.  Although  horrified  at  the  reckless 
ness  of  the  girl,  she  had  approved  even  when  Vera 
rejected  an  offer  of  marriage  from  a  wine  agent. 

68 


I  will  not,"  she  rebelled.     "I  hate  it!" 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Secretly,  for  a  proper  alliance  for  her,  Mabel 
read  the  society  columns  in  search  of  eligible,  rich 
young  men.  Finding  that  they  invariably  married 
eligible,  rich  young  women,  she  had  lately  deter 
mined  that  Vera's  destiny  must  be  an  English 
duke. 

Still  if,  as  she  hoped,  Vera  had  chosen  for  her 
self,  Mabel  felt  assured  that  the  man  would  prove 
worthy,  and  a  good  match.  A  good  match  meant 
one  who  owned  not  only  a  runabout,  but  a  tour 
ing  car. 

"It's  a  man  from  home,"  said  Vera. 

"Home?"    queried  Mannie. 

"From  up  the  State,"  explained  Vera;  "from 
Geneva.  It's — Mr.  Winthrop." 

With  an  exclamation  of  alarm,  Mannie  started 
upright.  "Winthrop!"  he  cried;  then  with  a 
laugh  of  relief  he  sank  back.  "Gee!  you  give 
me  a  scare,"  he  cried.  "  I  thought  you  meant  the 
District  Attorney." 

Mabel  laughed  sympathetically. 

"I  thought  so  too,"  she  admitted. 

"I  do  mean  the  District  Attorney,"  said  the 
girl. 

"Vera!"   cried  Mabel. 

"Winthrop — coming  here?"  demanded  Man 
nie. 

69 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"I  met  him  at  Mr.  Hallowell's  this  morning," 
said  Vera.  "Didn't  Paul  tell  you  ?" 

"Paul  ain't  back  yet,"  said  Mannie.  "I  wish 
he  was!"  His  lower  jaw  dropped  in  dazed 
bewilderment.  "Winthrop — coming  here?"  he 
repeated.  "And  they're  all  coming  here!"  he 
exclaimed  excitedly.  "Paul  just  phoned  me. 
They've  taken  Gaylor  in  with  them,  and  we're  all 
working  together  now  on  some  game  for  to-night. 
And  Winthrop's  coming  here!"  He  shook  his 
head  decidedly,  importantly.  As  the  only  man 
of  the  family  present,  he  felt  he  must  meet  this 
crisis.  "Paul  won't  stand  for  it!"  he  declared. 

"Well,  Paul  will  just  have  to  stand  for  it!"  re 
torted  Mrs.  Vance. 

With  a  murmur  of  sympathy  she  crossed  to 
Vera.  "I'm  not  going  to  see  our  Vera  disap 
pointed,"  she  announced.  "She  never  sees  no 
company.  Vera,  if  Mr.  Winthrop  comes  when 
that  bunch  is  here,  I'll  show  him  into  the  front 
parlor." 

Vera  sat  down  in  front  of  the  piano  and  let 
her  fingers  drop  upon  the  keys.  The  look  of 
eagerness  and  anticipation  had  left  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "that  I  want  to 
see  him — now." 

With  complete  misunderstanding,  Mannie  de- 
70 


Vera,  the  Medium 

manded  truculently,  "Why  not?"  His  loyalty 
to  Vera  gave  him  courage,  in  her  behalf,  to  face 
even  a  District  Attorney.  "He  doesn't  think 
he's  coming  here  to  make  trouble  for  you,  does 
he?" 

Vera  shook  her  head  and,  bending  over  the 
piano,  struck  a  few  detached  chords. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said  consciously;  "just  to  see 
me — professionally — like  everybody  else." 

Mabel  could  no  longer  withhold  her  indigna 
tion  at  the  obtuseness  of  the  masculine  intellect. 

"My  gracious,  Mannie!"  she  exclaimed,  "can't 
you  understand  he's  coming  here  to  make  a  call 
on  Vera — like  a  gentleman — not  like  no  District 
Attorney." 

Mannie  precipitately  retreated  from  his  position 
as  champion. 

"Sure,  I  understand,"  he  protested. 

With  the  joy  that  a  match-making  mother  takes 
in  the  hunt,  Mabel  sank  into  the  plush  rocking- 
chair  and,  rocking  violently,  turned  upon  Vera 
an  eager  and  excited  smile. 

"Think  of  our  Vera  knowing  Mr.  Winthrop 
socially!"  she  exclaimed.  "It's  grand!  And 
they  say  his  sisters  are  elegant  ladies.  Last  win 
ter  I  read  about  them  at  the  opera,  and  it  always 
printed  what  they  had  on.  Why  didn't  you  tell 


Vera,  the  Medium 

me  you  knowed  him,  Vera  ? "  she  cried  reproach 
fully.  "I  tell  you  everything!" 

"I  don't  know  him,"  protested  the  girl.  "I 
used  to  see  him  when  he  lived  in  the  same  town." 

Mabel,  inviting  further  confidences,  ceased  rock 
ing  and  nodded  encouragingly.  "  Up  in  Geneva  ? " 
she  prompted. 

"Yes,"  said  Vera;  "I  used  to  see  him  every 
afternoon  then,  when  he  played  ball  on  the  col 
lege  nine ' 

"Who?"    demanded  Mannie  incredulously. 

"Winthrop,"  said  Vera. 

"Did  he?"  exclaimed  Mannie.  His  tone  sug 
gested  that  he  might  still  be  persuaded  that  there 
was  good  in  the  man. 

"What'd  he  play?"   he  demanded  suspiciously. 

"First,"  said  Vera. 

"Did  he!"  exclaimed  Mannie.  His  tone  now 
was  of  open  approbation. 

Vera  had  raised  her  eyes  and  turned  them 
toward  the  windows.  Beyond  the  soot-stained 
sumach  tree,  the  fire-escapes  of  the  department 
store,  she  saw  the  sun-drenched  campus,  the  but 
tressed  chapel,  the  ancient,  drooping  elms;  and  on 
a  canvas  bag,  poised  like  a  winged  Mercury,  a 
tall  straight  figure  in  gray,  dusty  flannels. 

"He  was  awfully  good-looking,"  murmured  the 
72 


Vera,  the  Medium 

girl,  "and  awfully  tall.  He  could  stop  a  ball  as 
high  as — that!'9  She  raised  her  arm  in  the  air, 
and  then,  suddenly  conscious,  flushed,  and  turned 
to  the  piano. 

"Go  on,  tell  us,"  urged  Mabel.  "So  you  first 
met  him  in  Geneva,  did  you  ?" 

"No,"  corrected  Vera;  "saw  him  there.  I — 
only  met  him  once." 

Mannie  interrupted  hilariously. 

"7  only  saw  him  once,  too,"  he  cried;  "that 
was  enough  for  me." 

Vera  swiftly  spun  the  piano  stool,  so  that  she 
faced  him.  Her  eyes  were  filled  with  concern. 

"You,  Mannie!"  she  demanded  anxiously. 
"What  had  you  done?" 

"Done!"  exclaimed  Mannie  indignantly, 
"nothing!  What'd  you  think  I'd  done?  Did 
you  think  I  was  a  crook  ?" 

Vera  bowed  her  shoulders  and  shivered  as 
though  the  boy  had  cursed  at  her.  She  shook 
her  head  vehemently  and  again  swung  back  to 
the  piano.  Stumbling  awkwardly,  her  fingers 
ran  over  the  keys  in  a  swift  clatter  of  broken 
chords.  "No,"  she  whispered;  "no,  Mannie;  no." 

With  a  laugh  of  delighted  recollection,  Mannie 
turned  to  Mabel. 

"He  raided  a  poolroom  I  was  working  at," 
73 


Vera,  the  Medium 

he  explained.  "He  picked  me  out  as  a  sheet 
writer,  because  I  had  my  coat  off,  see  ?  I  told 
him  I  had  it  off  because  it  was  too  hot  for  me,  and 
he  says,  '  Young  man,  if  you  lie  to  me,  FH 
make  it  a  damn  sight  hotter !'!  Mannie  threw 
back  his  head  and  shouted  uproariously.  "He's 
all  right,  Winthrop!"  he  declared. 

Mabel,  having  already  married  Winthrop  to 
Vera  in  Grace  Church,  with  herself  in  the  front 
pew,  in  a  blue  silk  dress,  received  this  unexpected 
evidence  of  his  rare  wit  with  delight.  In  ecstasy 
of  appreciation  she  slapped  her  knees. 

"Did  he  say  that,  Mannie  ?"  she  cried.  "Wasn't 
that  quick  of  him!  Did  you  hear  what  he  said 
to  Mannie,  Vera  ?"  she  demanded. 

Their  mirth  was  interrupted  by  the  opening 
and  closing  of  the  front  door  and,  in  the  hall, 
the  murmur  of  men's  voices. 

Vance  opened  the  door  from  the  hall  and  en 
tered,  followed  by  Judge  Gaylor  and  Rainey. 
With  evident  pride  in  her  appearance,  Vance  intro 
duced  the  two  men  to  his  wife,  and  then  sent  her 
and  Mannie  from  the  room — the  latter  with  or 
ders  to  dismiss  the  visitors  in  the  front  parlor 
and  to  admit  no  others. 

At  the  door  Mrs.  Vance  turned  to  Vera  and 
nodded  mysteriously. 

74 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"If  that  party  calls,"  she  said  with  significance, 
"I'll  put  him  in  the  front  parlor."  With  a  look 
of  dismay,  Vera  vehemently  shook  her  head  but, 
to  forestall  any  opposition,  Mrs.  Vance  hastily 
slammed  the  door  behind  her. 

In  his  most  courteous  manner  Judge  Gaylor 
offered  the  chair  at  the  head  of  the  centre  table 
to  Vera,  and  at  the  same  table  seated  himself. 
Vance  took  a  place  on  the  piano  stool;  Rainey 
stood  with  his  back  to  the  mantel-piece. 

"Miss  Vera,"  Gaylor  began  impressively,  "I 
desire  to  apologize  for  my  language  this  morning. 
As  Rainey  no  doubt  has  told  you,  I  have  opposed 
you  and  Professor  Vance.  But  I — I  know  when 
I'm  beaten.  Your  influence  with  Mr.  Hallowell  to 
day — is  greater  than  mine.  It  is  paramount.  I  con 
gratulate  you."  He  smiled  ingratiatingly.  "And 
now,"  he  added,  "we  are  all  working  in  unison." 

"You've  given  up  your  idea  of  sending  me  to 
jail,"  said  Vera. 

"  Vera ! "  exclaimed  Vance  reprovingly. 
"  JU(Jge  Gaylor  has  apologized.  We're  all  in 
harmony  now." 

"Is  that  door  locked?"  asked  Gaylor.  Vance 
told  him,  save  Mrs.  Vance,  Mannie,  and  them 
selves,  there  was  none  in  the  house;  and  that  he 
might  speak  freely. 

75 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Miss  Vera,"  began  the  Judge,  "we  left  Mr. 
Hallowell  very  much  impressed  with  the  message 
you  gave  him  this  morning.  The  message  from 
his  dead  sister.  He  wants  another  message  from 
her.  He  wants  her  to  decide  how  he  shall  dis 
pose  of  a  very  large  sum  of  money — his  entire 
fortune." 

"His  entire  fortune!"  exclaimed  Vera.  "Do 
you  imagine,"  she  asked,  "that  Mr.  Hallowell 
will  take  advice  from  the  spirit-world  about  that? 
I  don't!" 

"I  do,"  Gaylor  answered  stoutly;  "I  know  / 
would." 

"You?"  asked  Vera  incredulously. 

"If  I  could  believe  my  sister  came  from  the 
dead  to  tell  me  what  to  do,"  said  the  lawyer,  "of 
course,  Fd  do  it.  I'd  be  afraid  not  to.  But  I 
don't  believe.  He  does.  And  he  believes  you 
can  bring  his  sister  herself  before  him.  He  in 
sists  that  to-night  you  hold  a  seance  in  his  house, 
and  that  you  materialize  the  spirit  of  his  dead 
sister.  So  that  he  can  see  his  sister,  and  talk 
with  his  sister.  Vance  says  you  can  do  that.  Can 
you  ?" 

From  Vera's  face  the  look  of  girlishness,  of  happy 
anticipation,  had  already  disappeared. 

"It  is  my  business  to  do  that,"  the  girl  an- 
76 


Vera,  the  Medium 

swered.  She  turned  to  Vance  and,  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  voice,  inquired,  "What  does  his  sister  look 
like — that  photograph  we  used  this  morning?" 

"  No,"  Vance  answered.  "  I've  a  better  one, 
Rainey  gave  me.  Taken  when  she  was  older. 
Has  white  hair  and  a  cap  and  a  kerchief  crossed 
— so."  He  drew  his  hands  across  his  shoulders. 
"Rainey,  show  Miss  Vera  that  picture." 

"Not  now,"  Gaylor  commanded.  "The  im 
portant  thing  now  is  that  Miss  Vera  understands 
the  message  Mr.  Hallowell  is  to  receive  from  his 


sister." 


The  two  other  men  nodded  quickly  in  assent. 
Gaylor  turned  to  Vera.  He  spoke  slowly,  ear 
nestly. 

"Miss  Vera,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Halloweirs  present 
will  leaves  his  fortune  to  his  niece.  He  has  made 
another  will,  which  he  has  not  signed,  leaving  his 
fortune  to  the  Hallowell  Institute.  He  will  ask 
his  sister,  to  which  of  these  he  should  leave  his 
money.  You  will  tell  him — "  He  corrected  him 
self  instantly.  "She  will  tell  him  to  give  it  where 
it  will  be  of  the  greatest  good  to  the  most  people — 
to  the  Institute."  There  was  a  pause.  "Do  you 
understand?"  he  asked. 

"To  the  Institute.  Not  to  the  niece,"  Vera 
answered.  Gaylor  nodded  gravely. 

77 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"What,"  asked  Vera,  "are  the  fewest  words  in 
which  that  message  could  be  delivered  ?  I  mean 
— should  she  say,  'You  are  to  endow  the  Hallo- 
well  Institute/  or  'Brother,  you  are  to  give — ' 
'Sign  the  new  will'?"  With  satisfaction  the  girl 
gave  a  sharp  shake  of  her  head,  and  nodded  to 
Vance.  '  'Destroy  the  old  will.  Sign  the  new 
will.'  That  is  the  best,"  she  said. 

"That's  it  exactly,"  Gaylor  exclaimed  eagerly; 
"that's  excellent!"  Then  his  face  clouded.  "I 
think,"  he  said  in  a  troubled  voice,  "we  should 
warn  Miss  Vera,  that  to  guard  himself  from  any 
trickery,  Mr.  Hallowell  insists  on  subjecting  her 
to  the  most  severe  tests.  He 

"That  will  be  all  right,"  said  the  girl.  She 
turned  to  Vance  and,  in  a  lower  tone  but  without 
interest,  asked:  "What,  for  instance?"  Vance 
merely  laughed  and  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The 
girl  smiled.  Nettled,  and  alarmed  at  what  ap 
peared  to  be  their  overconfidence,  Gaylor  objected 
warmly. 

"That's  all  very  well,"  he  cried,  "but  'for 
instance,'  he  insists  that  the  entire  time  you  are 
in  the  cabinet,  you  hold  a  handful  of  flour  in  one 
hand  and  of  shot  in  the  other" — he  illustrated 
with  clenched  fists — "which  makes  it  impossi 
ble,"  he  protested,  "for  you  to  use  your  hands." 

78 


Vera,  the  Medium 

The  face  of  the  girl  showed  complete  indiffer 
ence. 

"Not  necessarily,"  she  said. 

"But  you  are  to  be  tied  hand  and  foot,"  cried 
the  Judge.  "And  on  top  of  that,"  he  burst  forth 
indignantly,  pointing  aggrievedly  at  Vance,  "he 
himself  proposed  this  flour-and-shot  test.  It  was 
silly,  senseless  bravado!" 

"Not  necessarily,"  repeated  the  girl.  "He 
knew  that  I  invented  it."  Rainey  laughed.  Gay- 
lor  gave  an  exclamation  of  enlightenment. 

"If  it  will  be  of  any  comfort  to  you,  Judge," 
said  Vance,  "I'll  tell  you  one  thing:  every  test  that 
ever  was  put  to  a  medium — was  invented  by  a 
medium." 

Vera  rose.  "If  there  is  nothing  more,"  she 
said,  "I  will  go  and  get  the  things  ready  for  this 
evening.  'Destroy  the  old  will.  Sign  the  new 
will/ ' '  she  repeated.  She  turned  suddenly  to 
Vance,  her  brow  drawn  in  consideration.  "I 
suppose  by  this  new  will,"  she  asked,  "the  girl 
gets  nothing  ? " 

"Not  at  all!"  exclaimed  Gaylor  emphatically. 
"We  don't  want  her  to  fight  the  will.  She  gets 
a  million." 

"A  million  dollars?"  demanded  Vera.  For  an 
instant,  as  though  trying  to  grasp  the  possibilities 

79 


Vera,  the  Medium 

of  such  a  sum,  she  stood  staring  ahead  of  her. 
With  doubt  in  her  eyes,  and  shaking  her  head, 
she  turned  to  Vance. 

"How  can  one  woman  spend  a  million  dol 
lars?"  she  protested. 

"Well,  you  see,  we  don't  intend  to  starve  her," 
exclaimed  Gaylor  eagerly,  "and  at  the  same  time 
the  Institute  will  be  benefiting  all  humanity.  Do 
ing  good  to— 

Vera  interrupted  him  with  a  sharp,  peremptory 
movement  of  the  hand. 

"We  won't  go  into  that,  please,"  she  begged. 

The  Judge  inclined  his  head.  "I  only  meant  to 
point  out,"  he  said  stiffly,  "that  you  are  giving  Mr. 
Hallowell  the  best  advice,  and  doing  great  good." 

For  a  moment  the  girl  looked  at  him  steadily. 
On  her  lips  was  a  faint  smile  of  disdain,  but 
whether  for  him  or  for  herself,  the  Judge  could 
not  determine. 

"I  don't  know  that,"  the  girl  said  finally.  "I 
don't  ask."  She  turned  to  Rainey.  "Have  you 
that  photograph?"  He  gave  her  a  photograph 
and  after,  for  an  instant,  studying  it  in  silence, 
she  returned  it  to  him. 

"It  will  be  quite  easy,"  she  said  to  Vance.  She 
walked  to  the  door,  and  instinctively  the  two  men, 
who  were  seated,  rose. 

80 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"I  will  see  you  to-night  at  Mr.  Hallowell's," 
she  said  and,  with  a  nod,  left  them. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Rainey,"you  didn't  tell  her!" 

"I  know,"  Vance  answered.  "I  decided  we'd 
be  wiser  to  take  advice  from  my  wife.  She  un 
derstands  Vera  better  than  I  do."  He  opened 
the  door  to  the  hall,  and  called  "Mannie!  tell 
Mabel —  Oh,  Mabel,"  he  corrected,  "come  here 
a  minute."  He  returned  to  his  seat  on  the  piano 
stool.  "She  can  tell  us,"  he  said. 

In  expectation  of  the  arrival  of  Winthrop,  Mrs. 
Vance  had  arrayed  herself  in  a  light-blue  frock, 
and,  as  though  she  had  just  come  in  from  the 
street,  in  such  a  hat  as  she  considered  would  do 
credit  not  only  to  Vera  but  to  herself. 

"Mabel,"  her  husband  began,  "we're  up 
against  a  hard  proposition.  Hallowell  insists  that 
Winthrop  and  Miss  Coates  must  come  to  the 
seance  to-night." 

"Winthrop  and  Miss  Coates!"  cried  Mabel. 
In  astonishment  she  glanced  from  her  husband  to 
Rainey  and  Gaylor.  "Then,  it's  all  off!"  she 
exclaimed. 

''That's  what  I  say,"  growled  Rainey. 

"We  want  you  to  tell  us,"  continued  Vance, 
unmoved,  "whether  Vera  should  know  that  now, 
or  wait  until  to-night  ? " 

81 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Paul  Vance!"  almost  shrieked  his  wife:  "do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  you're  thinking  of  giving  a 
materialization  in  front  of  the  District  Attorney! 
You're  crazy!" 

"That's  what  I  tell  them,"  chorused  Rainey. 

Gaylor  raised  his  hand  for  silence. 

"No,  Mrs.  Vance,"  he  said  wearily.  "We  are 
not  crazy,  but,"  he  added  bitterly,  "we  can't 
help  ourselves.  You  mediums  have  got  Mr. 
Hallowell  in  such  a  state  that  he'll  only  do  what 
his  sister's  spirit  tells  him.  He  says,  if  he's  rob 
bing  his  niece,  his  sister  will  tell  him  so;  if  he's  to 
give  the  money  to  the  Institute,  his  sister  will  tell 
him  that.  He  says,  if  Vance  is  fair  and  above- 
board,  he  shouldn't  be  afraid  to  have  his  niece 
and  any  friends  of  hers  present.  We  can't  help 
ourselves." 

"I  helped  a  little,"  said  Vance,  "by  insisting 
on  having  our  own  friends  there — told  him  the 
spirit  could  not  materialize  unless  there  were 
believers  present." 

"Did  he  stand  for  that?"  asked  Mabel. 

"Glad  to  have  them,"  her  husband  assured  her. 
"They  like  to  think  there  are  others  as  foolish 
as  they  are.  And  I'm  going  to  place  Mr.  District 
Attorney,"  he  broke  out  suddenly  and  fiercely, 
"between  two  mediums.  They'll  hold  his  hands!" 

82 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Already  frightened  by  the  possible  result  of 
the  plot,  Rainey,  with  a  vehemence  born  of  fear, 
retorted  sharply:  "Hold  his  hands!  How' re  you 
going  to  make  him  hold  his  tongue,  afterward  ? " 

Gaylor  turned  upon  him  savagely. 

"My  God,  man!"  he  cried,  "we're  not  trying 
to  persuade  the  District  Attorney  that  he's  seen  a 
ghost.  If  your  friends  can  persuade  Stephen 
Hallowell  that  hes  seen  one,  the  District  Attorney 
can  go  to  the  devil!" 

"Well,  he  won't!"  returned  Rainey;  "he'll  go 
to  law!" 

"Let  him!"  cried  Gaylor  defiantly.  "Get  Hal 
lowell  to  sign  that  will,  and  /'//  go  into  court  with 
him." 

His  bravado  was  suddenly  attacked  from  an 
unexpected  source. 

"You'll  go  into  court  with  him,  all  right," 
declared  Mrs.  Vance,  "all  of  you!  And  if  you 
don't  want  him  to  catch  you,"  she  cried,  "you'll 
clear  out,  now!  He's  coming  here  any  minute." 

"Who's  coming  here  ?"  demanded  her  husband. 

"Winthrop,"  returned  his  wife;  "to  see  Vera." 

"To  see  Vera!"  cried  Vance  eagerly.  "What 
about?  About  this  morning?" 

"No,"  protested  Mabel;  "to  call  on  her.    He's 

an  old  friend " 

83 


Vera,  the  Medium 

In  alarm  Rainey  pushed  into  the  group  of  now 
thoroughly  excited  people.  "Don't  you  believe 
it!"  he  cried.  "If  he's  coming  here,  he's  coming 
to  give  her  the  third  degree " 

The  door  from  the  hall  suddenly  opened,  was 
as  suddenly  closed,  and  Mannie  slipped  into  the 
room.  One  hand  he  held  up  for  silence;  with 
the  other  he  pointed  at  the  folding  doors. 

"Hush!"  he  warned  them.  "He's  in  there! 
He  says,  he's  come  to  call  on  Vera.  She  says, 
he's  come  professionally,  and  I  must  bring  him 
in  here.  I've  shut  the  door  into  the  parlor,  and 
you  can  slip  upstairs  without  his  seeing  you." 

"Upstairs!"  gasped  Rainey;  "not  for  me!" 
He  appealed  to  Gaylor  in  accents  of  real  alarm. 
"We  must  get  away  from  this  house,"  he  declared. 
"If  he  finds  us  here — "  With  a  gesture  of  dismay 
he  tossed  his  hands  in  the  air.  Gaylor  nodded. 
In  silence  all,  save  Mannie,  moved  into  the  hall, 
and  halted  between  the  outer  and  inner  doors  of 
the  vestibule.  Gaylor  turned  to  Vance.  "Are 
you  going  to  tell  her,"  he  asked,  "that  he  is  to  be 
there  to-night?" 

"He'll  tell  her  himself,  now!" 

"No,"  corrected  Rainey;  "he  doesn't  know  yet 
there's  to  be  a  seance.  Hallowell  was  writing  the 
note  when  he  left." 

84 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Then,"  instructed  Gaylor,  "do  not  let  her 
know  until  she  arrives — until  it  will  be  too  late  for 
her  to  back  out." 

Vance  nodded  and,  waiting  until  from  the  back 
room  he  heard  the  voices  of  Mannie  and  Win- 
throp,  he  opened  the  front  door  and  the  two  men 
ran  down  the  steps  into  the  street. 

While  the  conspirators  were  hidden  in  the  ves 
tibule,  Mannie  had  opened  the  folding  doors, 
and  invited  Winthrop  to  enter  the  reception 
parlor. 

"Miss  Vera  will  be  down  in  a  minute,"  he  said. 
"If  you  want  your  hand  read,"  he  added,  point 
ing,  "you  sit  over  there." 

As  Winthrop  approached  the  centre  table, 
Mannie  backed  against  the  piano.  The  presence 
of  the  District  Attorney  at  such  short  range 
aroused  in  him  many  emotions.  Alternately  he 
was  torn  with  alarm,  with  admiration,  with  curi 
osity.  He  regarded  him  apprehensively,  with  a 
nervous  and  unhappy  smile. 

About  the  smile  there  was  something  that  Win 
throp  found  familiar,  and,  with  one  almost  as 
attractive,  he  answered  it. 

"I  think  we've  met  before,  haven't  we?"  he 
asked  pleasantly. 

Mannie  nodded.  "Yes,  sir,"  he  answered 
85 


Vera,  the  Medium 

promptly.  "At  Sam  Hepner's  old  place,  on  West 
Forty-fourth  Street." 

"Why,  of  course!"  exclaimed  the  District 
Attorney. 

"Don't  you — don't  you  remember?"  stam 
mered  Mannie  eagerly.  He  was  deeply  concerned 
lest  the  distinguished  cross-examiner  should  think, 
that  from  him  of  his  lurid  past  he  could  withhold 
anything.  "I  had  my  coat  off — and  you  said 
you'd  make  it  hot  for  me." 

"Did  I?"  asked  Winthrop  with  an  effort  at 
recollection. 

"No,  you  didn't!"  Mannie  hastened  to  reassure 
him.  "I  mean,  you  didn't  make  it  hot  for  me." 

Winthrop  laughed,  and  seated  himself  comfort 
ably  beside  the  centre  table.  "Well  I'm  glad  of 
that,"  he  said.  "So  our  relations  are  still  pleas 
ant,  then?"  he  asked. 

"Sure!"  exclaimed  Mannie  heartily.  "I  mean 
— yes,  sir." 

Winthrop  mechanically  reached  for  his  cigarette 
case,  and  then,  recollecting,  withdrew  his  hand. 

"And  how  are  the  ponies  running?"  he  asked. 

The  interview  was  filling  Mannie  with  excite 
ment  and  delight.  He  chuckled  with  pleasure. 
His  fear  of  the  great  man  was  rapidly  departing. 
Could  this,  he  asked  himself,  be  the  "terror  to 

86 


Vera,  the  Medium 

evil-doers,"  the  man  whose  cruel  questions  drove 
witnesses  to  tears,  whose  "third  degree"  sent 
veterans  of  the  under-world  staggering  from  his 
confessional  box,  limp  and  gasping  ? 

"Oh,  pretty  well,"  said  the  boy;  "seems  as  if 
I  couldn't  keep  away  from  them.  I  got  a  good 
thing  for  to-day — Pompadour — in  the  fifth.  I 
put  all  the  money  on  her  I  could  get  together," 
he  announced  importantly,  and  then  added 
frankly,  with  a  laugh,  "two  dollars!"  The  laugh 
was  contagious,  and  the  District  Attorney  laughed 
with  him. 

"Pompadour,"  Winthrop  objected;  "she's  one 
of  those  winter-track  favorites." 

"I  know;  but  to-day,"  declared  Mannie,  "she 
win,  sure!"  Carried  away  by  his  enthusiasm, 
and  by  the  sympathy  of  his  audience,  he  rushed, 
unheeding,  to  his  fate.  "If  you'd  like  to  put  a 
little  on,"  he  said,  "I  can  tell  you  where  you  can 
do  it." 

The  District  Attorney  stared  and  laughed. 
"You  mustn't  tell  me  where  you  can  do  it,"  he 
said. 

Mannie  gave  a  terrified  gasp  and,  for  an  in 
stant,  clapped  his  hands  over  his  lips.  "That's 
right,"  he  cried.  "Gee,  that's  right!  I'm  such 
a  crank  on  all  kinds  of  sport  that  I  clean  forgot!" 

87 


Vera,  the  Medium 

He  gazed  at  the  much-dreaded  District  Attor 
ney  with  the  awe  of  the  new-born  hero-worship 
per.  "I  guess  you  are,  too,  hey?"  he  protested 
admiringly.  "Vera  was  telling  me  you  used  to 
be  a  great  ball  tosser." 

In  the  face  of  the  District  Attorney  there  came 
a  sudden  interest.  His  eyes  lightened. 

"How  did  she " 

"  She  used  to  watch  you  in  Geneva,"  said  Man- 
nie;  "playing  with  the  college  lads.  I — I,"  he 
added  consciously,  "was  a  bail  player  myself 
once.  Used  to  pitch  for  the  Interstate  League." 
He  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Interstate  ? "  said  Winthrop  encouragingly. 
"You  must  have  been  good." 

The  enthusiasm  had  departed  from  the  face 
of  the  boy.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "but — "  he  smiled 
shamefacedly,  "but  I  got  taking  coke,  and  they — " 
He  finished  with  a  dramatic  gesture  of  the  hand 
as  of  a  man  tossing  away  a  cigarette. 

"  Cocaine  ? "  said  the  District  Attorney. 

The  boy  nodded  and,  for  an  instant,  the  two 
men  eyed  each  other,  the  boy  smiling  ruefully.  The 
District  Attorney  shook  his  head.  "My  young 
friend,"  he  said,  "you  can  never  beat  that  game !" 

Mannie  stared  at  him,  his  eyes  filled  with  sur 
prise. 

88 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Don't  you  suppose,"  he  said  simply,  "that  I 
know  that  better  than  you  do  ? "  With  a  boy's 
pride  in  his  own  incorrigibility  he  went  on  boast- 
ingly:  "Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "I  used  to  be  awful 
bad!  Cocaine  and  all  kinds  of  dope,  and  cigar 
ettes,  and  whiskey.  I  was  nearly  all  in — with 
morphine,  it  was  then — till  she  took  hold  of  me, 
and  stopped  me." 

"She?"  said  Winthrop. 

"Vera,"  said  Mannie.  "She  made  me  stop. 
I  had  to  stop.  She  started  taking  it  herself." 

"What!"  cried  Winthrop. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Mannie  hastily,  "I  don't 
mean  what  you  mean — I  mean  she  started  taking 
it  to  make  me  stop.  She  says  to  me,  'Mannie, 
you're  killing  yourself,  and  you  got  to  quit  it;  and 
if  you  don't,  every  time  you  take  a  grain,  I'll  take 
two.'  And  she  did!  I'd  come  home,  and  she'd 
see  what  I'd  been  doing,  and  she'd  up  with  her 
sleeves,  and — "  In  horrible  pantomime,  the  boy 
lifted  the  cuff  of  his  shirt,  and  pressed  his  right 
thumb  against  the  wrist  of  his  other  arm.  At  the 
memory  of  it,  he  gave  a  shiver  and,  with  a  blow, 
roughly  struck  the  cuff  into  place.  "God!"  he 
muttered.  "I  couldn't  stand  it.  I  begged,  and 
begged  her  not.  I  cried.  I  used  to  get  down,  in 
this  room,  on  my  knees.  And  each  time  she'd 

89 


Vera,  the  Medium 

get  whiter,  and  black  under  the  eyes.     And — and 
I  had  to  stop.     Didn't  I?" 

Winthrop  moved  his  head. 

"And  now,"  cried  the  boy  with  a  happy  laugh, 
"I'm  all  right!"  He  appealed  to  the  older  man 
eagerly,  wistfully.  "Don't  you  think  I'm  look 
ing  better  than  I  did  the  last  time  you  saw  me  ? " 

Again,  without  venturing  to  speak,  Winthrop 
nodded. 

Mannie  smiled  with  pride.  "Everybody  tells 
me  so,"  he  said.  "Well,  she  did  it.  That's 
what  she  did  for  me.  And,  I  can  tell  you,"  he 
said  simply,  sincerely,  "there  ain't  anything  I 
wouldn't  do  for  her.  I  guess  that's  right,  hey?" 
he  added. 

The  eyes  of  the  cruel  cross-examiner,  veiled 
under  half-closed  lids,  were  regarding  the  boy 
with  so  curious  an  expression  that  under  their 
scrutiny  Mannie,  in  embarrassment,  moved  un 
easily.  "I  guess  that's  right,"  he  repeated. 

To  his  surprise,  the  District  Attorney  rose  from 
his  comfortable  position  and,  leaning  across  the 
table,  held  out  his  hand.  Mannie  took  it  awk 
wardly. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said. 

"Sure,  it's  all  right,"  said  the  District  At 
torney. 

90 


Vera,  the  Medium 

From  the  hall  there  was  the  sound  of  light, 
quick  steps,  and  Mannie,  happy  to  escape  from  a 
situation  he  did  not  understand,  ran  to  the  door. 

"She's  coming,"  he  said.  He  opened  the  door 
and,  as  Vera  entered,  he  slipped  past  her  and 
closed  it  behind  him. 

Vera  walked  directly  to  the  chair  at  the  top  of 
the  centre  table.  She  was  nervous,  and  she  was 
conscious  that  that  fact  was  evident.  To  avoid 
shaking  hands  with  her  visitor,  she  carried  her 
own  clasped  in  front  of  her,  with  the  fingers  inter 
laced.  She  tried  to  speak  in  her  usual  suave, 
professional  tone.  "How  do  you  do?"  she  said. 

But  Winthrop  would  not  be  denied.  With 
a  smile  that  showed  his  pleasure  at  again  see 
ing  her,  he  advanced  eagerly,  with  his  hand 
outstretched.  "How  are  you?"  he  exclaimed. 
"Aren't  you  going  to  shake  hands  with  me?"  he 
demanded.  "With  an  old  friend  ?" 

Vera  gave  him  her  hand  quickly,  and  then, 
seating  herself  at  the  table,  picked  up  the  ivory 
pointer. 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  coming  as  an  old 
friend,"  she  murmured  embarrassedly.  "You 
said  you  were  coming  to  consult  Vera,  the  me 
dium." 

"But  you  said   that  was  the  only  way  I  could 


Vera,  the  Medium 

come,"  protested  Winthrop.     "Don't  you  remem 
ber,  you  said " 

Vera  interrupted  him.  She  spoke  distantly, 
formally.  "What  kind  of  a  reading  do  you 
want?"  she  asked.  "A  hand  reading,  or  a  crys 
tal  reading?" 

Winthrop  leaned  forward  in  his  chair,  frankly 
smiling  at  her.  He  made  no  attempt  to  conceal 
the  pleasure  the  sight  of  her  gave  him.  His  man 
ner  was  that  of  a  very  old  and  dear  friend,  who, 
for  the  first  time,  had  met  her  after  a  separation 
of  years. 

"Don't  want  any  kind  of  a  reading,"  he  de 
clared.  "I  want  a  talking.  You  don't  seem  to 
understand,"  he  objected,  "that  I  am  making  an 
afternoon  call."  His  good-humor  was  unassail 
able.  Looking  up  with  a  perplexed  frown,  Vera 
met  his  eyes  and  saw  that  he  was  laughing  at  her. 
She  threw  the  ivory  pointer  down  and,  leaning 
back  in  her  chair,  smiled  at  him. 

"I  don't  believe,"  she  said  doubtfully,  "that  I 
know  much  about  afternoon  calls.  What  would 
I  do,  if  we  were  on  Fifth  Avenue  ?  Would  I  give 
you  tea?"  she  asked;  "because,"  she  added  has 
tily,  "there  isn't  any  tea." 

"In  that  case,  it  is  not  etiquette  to  offer  any," 
said  Winthrop  gravely. 

92 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Then,"  said  Vera,  "  I'm  doing  it  right,  so  far  ?" 

They  both  laughed;  Vera  because  she  still  was 
in  awe  of  him,  and  Winthrop  because  he  was 
happy. 

"You're  doing  it  charmingly,"  Winthrop  as 
sured  her. 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Vera.  "Well,  now,"  she 
inquired,  "now  we  talk,  don't  we  ?" 

"Yes,"  assented  Winthrop  promptly,  "we  talk 
about  you." 

"No,  I — I  don't  think  we  do,"  declared  Vera, 
in  haste.  "I  think  we  talk  about — Geneva." 
She  turned  to  him  with  real  interest.  "Is  the 
town  much  changed?"  she  asked. 

As  though  preparing  for  a  long  talk,  Winthrop 
dropped  his  hat  to  the  floor  and  settled  himself 
comfortably.  "Well,  it  is,  and  it  isn't,"  he  an 
swered.  "Haven't  you  been  back  lately?"  he 
asked. 

Vera  looked  quickly  away  from  him. 

"I  have  never  been  back!"  she  answered. 
There  was  a  pause  and  when  she  again  turned 
her  eyes  to  his,  she  was  smiling.  "But  I  always 
take  the  Geneva  Times"  she  said,  "and  I  often 
read  that  you've  been  there.  You're  a  great  man 
in  Geneva." 

Winthrop  nodded  gravely. 
93 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Whenever  I  want  to  be  a  great  man,"  he  said, 
"I  go  to  Geneva/' 

"Why,  yes,"  exclaimed  Vera.  "Last  June  you 
delivered  the  oration  to  the  graduating  class,"  she 
laughed,  "on  'The  College  Man  in  Politics/ 
Such  an  original  subject!  And  did  you  point  to 
yourself?"  she  asked  mockingly,  "as  the — the 
bright  example  ? " 

"No,"  protested  Winthrop,  "I  knew  they'd  see 
that." 

Much  to  her  relief,  Vera  found  that  of  Winthrop 
she  was  no  longer  afraid. 

"Oh!"  she  protested,  "didn't  you  say,  'twelve 
years  ago,  a  humble  boy  played  ball  for  Hobart 
College.  That  boy  now  stands  before  you'? 
Didn't  you  say  that  ? " 

"Something  like  that,"  assented  the  District 
Attorney.  "Oh!"  he  exclaimed,  "that  young 
man  who  showed  me  in  here — your  confederate  or 
fellow-conspirator  or  lookout  man  or  whatever  he 
is — told  me  you  used  to  be  a  regular  attendant 
at  those  games." 

"I  never  missed  one!"  Vera  cried.  She  leaned 
forward,  her  eyes  shining,  her  brows  knit  with 
the  effort  of  recollection. 

"I  used  to  tell  aunt,"  she  said,  "I  had  to  drive 
in  for  the  mail.  But  that  was  only  an  excuse. 

94 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Aunt  had  an  old  buggy,  and  an  old  white  horse 
called  Roscoe  Conkling.  I  called  him  'Rocks/ 
He  was  blind  in  one  eye,  and  he  would  walk  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  road;  you  had  to  drive  him  on 
one  rein."  The  girl  was  speaking  rapidly,  ea 
gerly.  She  had  lost  all  fear  of  her  visitor.  With 
satisfaction  Winthrop  recognized  this;  and  uncon 
sciously  he  was  now  frankly  regarding  the  face 
of  the  girl  with  a  smile  of  pleasure  and  admira 
tion. 

"And  I  used  to  tie  him  to  the  fence  just  oppo 
site  first  base,"  Vera  went  on  excitedly,  "and 
shout — for  you!" 

"Don't  tell  me,"  interrupted  Winthrop,  in  bur 
lesque  excitement,  "that  you  were  that  very 
pretty  little  girl,  with  short  dresses  and  long  legs, 
who  used  to  sit  on  the  top  rail  and  kick  and 
cheer." 

Vera  shook  her  head  sternly. 

"I  was,"  she  said;  "but  you  never  saw  me." 

"Oh,  yes,  we  did,"  protested  Winthrop.  "We 
used  to  call  you  our  mascot." 

"No;  that  was  some  other  little  girl,"  said  Vera 
firmly.  "You  never  looked  at  me,  and  I" — 
she  laughed,  and  then  frowned  at  him  reproach 
fully — "I  thought  you  were — magnificent!  I  used 
to  have  your  pictures  in  base-ball  clothes  pir 

95 


Vera,  the  Medium 

all  around  my  looking-glass,  and  whenever  you 
made  a  base  hit,  I'd  shout  and  shout — and  you'd 
never  look  at  me!  And  one  day — "  she  stopped, 
and  as  though  appalled  by  the  memory,  clasped 
her  hands.  "Oh,  it  was  awful!"  she  exclaimed; 
"one  day  a  foul  ball  hit  the  fence,  and  I  jumped 
down  and  threw  it  to  you,  and  you  said,  'Thank 
you,  sis!'  And  I,"  she  cried,  "thought  I  was  a 
young  lady!" 

"Oh!  I  couldn't  have  said  that,"  protested 
Winthrop;  "maybe  I  said,  'sister."' 

"No,"  declared  Vera,  energetically  shaking  her 
head,  "not  'sister/  'sis.'  And  you  never  did  look 
at  me;  and  I  used  to  drive  past  your  house  every 
day.  We  lived  only  a  mile  below  you." 

"Where?"  asked  Winthrop. 

"On  the  lake  road  from  Syracuse,"  said  Vera. 
"Don't  you  remember  the  farm  a  mile  below 
yours — the  one  with  the  red  barn  right  on  the 
road?  Yes,  you  do,"  she  insisted;  "the  cows 
were  always  looking  over  the  fence  right  into  the 
road." 

"Of  course!"  exclaimed  Winthrop  delightedly. 
"  Was  that  your  house  ? " 

"Oh,  no,"  protested  Vera;  "ours  was  the  little 
cottage  on  the  other  side " 

"With  poplars  round  it?"  demanded  Winthrop. 
06 


Vera,  the  Medium 


"That's  it!"  cried  Vera  triumphantly;  "with 
poplars  round  it." 

"Why,  I  know  that  house  well.  We  boys  used 
to  call  it  the  haunted  house." 

"That's  the  one,"  assented  Vera.  She  smiled 
with  satisfaction.  "Well,  that's  where  I  lived 
until  aunt  died,"  she  said. 

"And  then,  what?"  asked  Winthrop. 

For  a  moment  the  girl  did  not  answer.  Her 
face  had  grown  grave  and  she  sat  motionless, 
staring  beyond  her.  Suddenly,  as  though  casting 
her  thoughts  from  her,  she  gave  a  sharp  toss  of 
her  head. 

"Then,"  she  said,  speaking  quickly;  "I  went 
into  the  mills,  and  was  ill  there,  and  I  wrote  Paul 
and  Mabel  to  ask  if  I  could  join  them,  and  they 
said  I  could.  But  I  was  too  ill,  and  I  had  no 
money — nothing.  And  then,"  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  his  and  regarded  him  steadily;  "then  I  stole 
that  cloak  to  get  the  money  to  join  them,  and  you 
— you  helped  me  to  get  away,  and — and " 

Winthrop  broke  in  hastily.  He  disregarded 
both  her  manner  and  the  nature  of  what  she  had 
said. 

"And  how  did  you  come  to  know  the  Vances  ?" 
he  asked. 

After  a  pause  of  an  instant,  the  girl  accepted 
97 


Vera,  the  Medium 

the  cue  his  manner  gave  her,  and  answered  as 
before. 

"Through  my  aunt/'  she  said.  "She  was  a 
medium  too/' 

"Of  course!"  cried  Winthrop.  "I  remember 
now.  That's  why  we  called  it  the  haunted  house." 

"  My  aunt,"  said  the  girl,  regarding  him  steadily 
and  with,  in  her  manner,  a  certain  defiance, 
"was  a  great  medium.  All  the  spiritualists  in 
that  part  of  the  State  used  to  meet  at  our  house. 
I've  witnessed  some  wonderful  manifestations  in 
that  front  parlor/'  She  turned  to  Winthrop  and 
smiled.  "So,  you  see,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  was 
born  and  brought  up  in  this  business.  I  am  the 
seventh  daughter  of  a  seventh  daughter.  My 
grandmother  was  a  medium,  my  mother  was  a 
medium — she  worked  with  the  Fox  sisters  before 
they  were  exposed.  But,  my  aunt,"  she  added 
thoughtfully,  judicially,  "was  the  greatest  me 
dium  I  have  ever  seen.  She  did  certain  things  / 
couldn't  understand,  and  I  know  every  trick  in 
the  trade — unless,"  she  explained,  "you  believe 
the  spirits  helped  her." 

Winthrop  was  observing  the  girl  intently,  with 
a  new  interest. 

"And  you  don't  believe  that?"  he  asked, 
quietly. 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"How  can  I  ?"  Vera  said.  "I  was  brought  up 
with  them."  She  shook  her  head  and  smiled. 
"I  used  to  play  around  the  kitchen  stove  with 
Pocahontas  and  Alexander  the  Great,  and  Martin 
Luther  lived  in  our  china  closet.  You  see,  the 
neighbors  wouldn't  let  their  children  come  to  our 
house;  so,  the  only  playmates  I  had  were — 
ghosts/'  She  laughed  wistfully.  "My!"  she  ex 
claimed,  "I  was  a  queer,  lonely  little  rat.  I  used 
to  hear  voices  and  see  visions.  I  do  still,"  she 
added.  With  her  elbows  on  the  arms  of  her 
chair,  she  clasped  her  hands  under  her  chin  and 
leaned  forward.  She  turned  her  eyes  to  Win- 
throp  and  nodded  confidentially. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "sometimes  I  think 
people  from  the  other  world  do  speak  to  me." 

"But  you  said,"  Winthrop  objected,  "you 
didn't  believe." 

"I  know,"  returned  Vera.  "I  can't!"  Her 
voice  was  perplexed,  impatient.  "Why,  I  can  sit 
in  this  chair,"  she  declared  earnestly,  "and  fill 
this  room  with  spirit  voices  and  rappings,  and  you 
sitting  right  there  can't  see  how  I  do  it.  And 
yet,  in  spite  of  all  the  tricks,  sometimes  I  believe 
there's  something  in  it." 

She  looked  at  Winthrop,  her  eyes  open  with 
inquiry.  He  shook  his  head.  , 

99 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Yes,"  insisted  the  girl.  "When  these  women 
come  to  me  for  advice,  I  don't  invent  what  I  say 
to  them.  It's  as  though  something  told  me  what 
to  say.  I  have  never  met  them  before,  but  as  soon 
as  I  pass  into  the  trance  state  I  seem  to  know  all 
their  troubles.  And  I  seem  to  be  half  in  this 
world  and  half  in  another  world — carrying  mes 
sages  between  them.  Maybe,"  her  voice  had 
sunk  to  almost  a  whisper;  she  continued  as  though 
speaking  to  herself,  "I  only  think  that.  I  don't 
know.  I  wonder." 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

"I  wish,"  began  Winthrop  earnestly,  "I  wish 
you  were  younger,  or  I  were  older." 

"Why?"  asked  Vera. 

"Because,"  said  the  young  man,  "I'd  like  to 
talk  to  you — like  a  father." 

Vera  turned  and  smiled  on  him  securely,  with 
frank  friendliness.  "Go  ahead,"  she  assented; 
"talk  to  me  like  a  father." 

Winthrop  smiled  back  at  her,  and  then  frowned. 
"You  shouldn't  be  in  this  business,"  he  said. 

The  girl  regarded  him  steadily. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  business?"  she 
asked. 

Winthrop  felt  she  had  put  him  upon  the  defen 
sive,  but  he  did  not  hesitate. 

100 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Well,"  he  said,  "there  may  be  some  truth  in 
it.  But  we  don't  know  that.  We  do  know  that 
there's  a  lot  of  fraud  and  deceit  in  it.  Now,"  he 
declared  warmly,  "there's  nothing  deceitful  about 
you.  You're  fine,"  he  cried  enthusiastically, 
"you're  big!  That  boy  who  was  in  here  told  me 
one  story  about  you,  that  showed " 

Vera  stopped  him  sharply. 

"What  do  you  know  of  me?"  she  asked  bit 
terly.  "The  first  time  you  ever  saw  me  I  was  in 
a  police  court;  and  this  morning — you  heard  that 
man  threaten  to  put  me  in  jail " 

In  turn,  by  abruptly  rising  from  his  chair,  Win- 
throp  interrupted  her.  He  pushed  the  chair  out 
of  his  way,  and,  shoving  his  hands  into  his  trou 
sers'  pockets,  began  pacing  with  long,  quick 
strides  up  and  down  the  room.  "What  do  I  care 
for  that?"  he  cried  contemptuously.  He  tossed 
the  words  at  her  over  his  shoulder.  "  I  put  lots  of 
people  in  jail  myself  that  are  better  than  I  am. 
Only,  they  won't  play  the  game."  He  halted,  and 
turned  on  her.  "Now,  you're  not  playing  the 
game.  This  is  a  mean  business;  taking  money 
from  silly  girls  and  old  men.  You're  too  good 
for  that."  He  halted  at  the  table  and  stood  fac 
ing  her.  "I've  got  two  sisters  uptown,"  he  said. 
He  spoke  commandingly,  peremptorily.  "And 

101 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Winthrop  smiled  at  her  confidently. 

"I'm  going  to  try,"  he  said. 

"No,  please!"  begged  the  girl.  Her  voice  was 
still  shaken  with  tears.  She  motioned  with  her 
head  toward  the  room  behind  her. 

"These  are  my  people,"  she  declared  defiantly, 
as  though  daring  him  to  contradict  her.  "And 
they  are  good  people!  They've  tried  to  be  good 
friends  to  me;  and  they've  been  true  to  me." 

Winthrop  came  toward  her  and  stood  beside 
her;  so  close  that  he  could  have  placed  his  hand 
upon  her  shoulder.  He  wondered,  whimsically, 
if  she  knew  how  cruel  she  seemed  in  appealing 
with  her  tears,  her  helplessness  and  loveliness  to 
what  was  generous  and  chivalric  in  him;  and,  at 
the  same  time,  by  her  words,  treating  him  as  an 
interloper  and  an  enemy. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said  gently.  "But  that 
doesn't  prevent  my  being  a  good  friend  to  you, 
too,  does  it?  Or,"  he  added,  his  voice  growing 
tense  and  conscious — "my  being  true  to  you? 
My  sisters  will  be  here  to-morrow,"  he  announced 
briskly. 

Vera  had  wearily  dropped  her  arms  upon  the 
table  and  lowered  her  head  upon  them.  From  a 
place  down  in  the  depths  she  murmured  a  pro 
test. 

104 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"No/'  contradicted  Winthrop  cheerfully,  "this 
time  you  are  going  to  win.  You'll  have  back  of 
you,  if  I  do  say  it,  two  of  the  best  women  God 
ever  made.  Only,  now,  you  must  do  as  I  say." 
There  was  a  pause.  "Will  you?"  he  begged. 

Vera  raised  her  head  slowly,  holding  her 
hand  across  her  eyes.  There  was  a  longer  silence, 
and  then  she  looked  up  at  him  and  smiled  patheti 
cally,  gratefully,  and  nodded. 

"Good!"  cried  Winthrop.  "No  more  spooks,'* 
he  laughed;  "no  more  spirit  rappings." 

Through  her  tears  Vera  smiled  up  at  him  a  wan, 
broken  smile.  She  gave  a  shudder  of  distaste. 
"Never!"  she  whispered.  "I  promise."  Their 
eyes  met;  the  girl's  looking  into  his  shyly,  grate 
fully;  the  man's  searching  hers  eagerly.  And 
suddenly  they  saw  each  other  with  a  new  and 
wonderful  sympathy  and  understanding.  Win 
throp  felt  himself  bending  toward  her.  He  was 
conscious  that  the  room  had  grown  dark,  and 
that  he  could  see  only  her  eyes.  "You  must  be 
just  yourself,"  he  commanded,  but  so  gently,  so 
tenderly,  that,  though  he  did  not  know  it,  each 
word  carried  with  it  the  touch  of  a  caress,  "just 
your  sweet,  fine,  noble  self!" 

Something  he  read  in  the  girl's  uplifted  eyes 
made  him  draw  back  with  a  shock  of  wonder,  of 

105 


Vera,  the  Medium 

delight,  with  an  upbraiding  conscience.  To  pull 
himself  together,  he  glanced  quickly  about  him. 
The  day  had  really  grown  dark.  He  felt  a  sudden 
desire  to  get  away;  to  go  where  he  could  ask  him 
self  what  had  happened,  what  it  was  that  had  filled 
this  unknown,  tawdry  room  with  beauty  and 
given  it  the  happiness  of  a  home. 

"By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed  nervously,  "I  had 
no  idea  I'd  stayed  so  long.  You'll  not  let  me  come 
again.  Good-by — until  to-morrow."  He  turned, 
holding  out  his  hand,  and  found  that  again  the 
girl  had  dropped  her  face  upon  her  arm,  and  was 
sobbing  quietly,  gently. 

"Oh,  what  is  it?"  cried  Winthrop.  "What 
have  I  said?"  The  catch  in  the  girl's  voice 
as  she  tried  to  check  the  sobs  wrenched  his 
heart.  "Oh,  please,"  he  begged;  "I've  said 
something  wrong  ?  I've  hurt  you  ? "  With  her 
face  still  hidden  in  her  arms,  the  girl  shook  her 
head. 

"No,  no!"  she  sobbed.  Her  voice,  soft  with 
tears,  was  a  melody  of  sweet  and  tender  tones. 
"It's  only — that  I've  been  so  lonely — and  you've 
made  me  happy,  happy!" 

The  sobs  broke  out  afresh,  but  Winthrop,  now 
knowing  that  they  brought  to  the  girl  peace, 
was  no  longer  filled  with  dismay. 

106 


Suddenly  they  saw  each  other  with  a  new  and  wonderful 
sympathy 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Her  head  was  bent  upon  her  left  arm,  her  right 
hand  lightly  clasped  the  edge  of  the  table.  With 
the  intention  of  saying  farewell,  Winthrop  took 
her  hand  in  his.  The  girl  did  not  move.  To  his 
presence  she  seemed  utterly  oblivious.  In  the 
gathering  dusk  he  could  see  the  bent  figure,  could 
hear  the  soft,  irregular  breathing  as  the  girl  wept 
gently,  happily;  like  a  child  sobbing  itself  to 
sleep.  The  hand  he  held  in  his  neither  repelled 
nor  invited,  and  for  an  instant  he  stood  motionless, 
holding  it  uncertainly.  It  was  so  delicate,  so  help 
less,  so  appealing,  so  altogether  lovable.  It  seemed 
to  reach  up,  and,  with  warm,  clinging  fingers, 
clutch  the  tendrils  of  his  heart. 

Winthrop  bent  his  head  suddenly,  and  lifting 
the  hand,  kissed  it;  and  then,  without  again 
speaking,  walked  quickly  into  the  hall  and  shut 
the  door.  In  the  room  the  dusk  deepened. 
Through  the  open  windows  came  the  roar  of  the 
Sixth  Avenue  Elevated,  the  insistent  clamor  of 
an  electric  hansom,  the  murmur  of  Broadway  at 
night.  The  tears  had  suddenly  ceased,  but  the 
girl  had  not  moved.  At  last,  slowly,  stiffly,  she 
raised  her  head.  Her  eyes,  filled  with  wonder, 
with  amazement,  were  fixed  upon  her  hand. 
She  glanced  cautiously  about  her.  Assured  she 
was  alone,  with  her  other  hand  she  lifted  the  one 

107 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Winthrop  had  kissed  and  held  it  pressed  against 
her  lips. 

The  folding  doors  were  thrown  open,  letting 
in  a  flood  of  light,  and  Mabel  Vance,  entering 
swiftly,  knelt  at  the  table  and  bent  her  head  close 
to  Vera. 

"That  woman's  in  the  hall,"  she  whispered, 
"that  niece  of  Halloweirs.  Paul  and  Mannie 
can't  get  rid  of  her.  Now  she's  got  hold  of  Win 
throp.  She  says  she  will  see  you.  Be  careful!" 

Vera  rose.  That  Mabel  might  not  see  she  had 
been  weeping,  she  walked  to  the  piano,  covertly 
drying  her  eyes. 

"What,"  she  asked  dully,  "does  she  want  with 
me?" 

"About  to-night,"  answered  Mabel.  She  ex 
claimed  fiercely,  "I  told  them  there'd  be  trouble!" 

With  Vance  upon  her  heels,  Helen  Coates 
came  in  quickly  from  the  hall.  Her  face  was 
flushed,  her  eyes  lit  with  indignation  and  excite 
ment.  In  her  hand  she  held  an  open  letter. 

As  though  to  protect  Vera,  both  Vance  and 
his  wife  moved  between  her  and  their  visitor, 
but,  disregarding  them,  Miss  Coates  at  once 
singled  out  the  girl  as  her  opponent. 

"You  are  the  young  woman  they  call  Vera,  I 
believe,"  she  said.  "I  have  a  note  here  from  Mr. 

108 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Hallowell  telling  me  you  are  giving  a  seance  to 
night  at  his  house.  That  you  propose  to  exhibit 
the  spirit  of  my  mother.  That  is  an  insult  to  the 
memory  of  my  mother  and  to  me.  And  I  warn 
you,  if  you  attempt  such  a  thing,  I  will  pre 


vent  it." 


There  was  a  pause.  When  Vera  spoke  it  was 
in  the  tone  of  every-day  politeness.  Her  voice 
was  even  and  steady. 

"You  have  been  misinformed,"  she  said. 
"There  will  be  no  seance  to-night." 

Vance  turned  to  Vera,  and,  in  a  voice  lower 
than  her  own,  but  sufficiently  loud  to  include 
Miss  Coates,  said:  "I  don't  think  we  told  you 
that  Mr.  Hallowell  himself  insists  that  this  lady 
and  her  friends  be  present." 

"Her  presence  makes  no  difference,"  said 
Vera  quietly.  "There  will  be  no  seance  to-night. 
I  will  tell  you  about  it  later,  Paul,"  she  added. 
She  started  toward  the  door,  but  Miss  Coates 
moved  as  though  to  intercept  her. 

"If  you  think,"  she  cried  eagerly,  "you  can 
give  a  seance  to  Mr.  Hallowell  without  my  know 
ing  it,  you  are  mistaken." 

Vera  paused,  and  made  a  slight  inclination  of 
her  head. 

"That  was  not  my  idea,"  she  said.  She  looked 
109 


Vera,  the  Medium 

appealingly    to    Vance.     "Is    that    not    enough, 
Paul?"   she  asked. 

"Quite  enough!"  exclaimed  the  man.  He 
turned  to  the  visitor  and  made  a  curt  movement 
of  the  hand  toward  the  open  door. 

"There  will  be  a  seance  to-night,"  he  declared. 
"At  Mr.  Hallowell's.  If  you  wish  to  protest 
against  it,  you  can  do  so  there.  This  is  my  house. 
If  you  have  finished — "  He  repeated  the  gesture 
toward  the  open  door. 

"I  have  not  finished,"  said  Miss  Coates  sharply; 
"and  if  you  take  my  advice,  you  will  follow  her 
example."  With  a  nod  of  the  head  she  signified 
Vera.  "When  she  sees  she's  in  danger,  she 
knows  enough  to  stop.  This  is  not  a  question  of 
a  few  medium's  tricks,"  she  cried,  contemptu 
ously.  "I  know  all  that  you  planned  to  do,  and 
I  intend  that  to-morrow  every  one  in  New  York 
shall  know  it  too." 

Like  a  cloak  Vera's  self-possession  fell  from 
her.  In  alarm  she  moved  forward. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"    she  demanded. 

"  I  have  had  you  people  followed  pretty  closely," 
said  Miss  Coates.  Her  tone  was  assured.  She 
was  confident  that  of  those  before  her  she  was 
the  master,  and  that  of  that  fact  they  were 
aware. 

no 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"I  know,"  she  went  on,  "just  how  you  tried  to 
impose  upon  my  uncle — how  you  tried  to  rob 
me,  and  to-night  I  have  invited  the  reporters  to 
my  house  to  give  them  the  facts." 

With  a  cry  Vera  ran  to  her. 

"No!"  she  begged,  "you  won't  do  that.  You 
must  not  do  that!" 

"Let  her  talk!"  growled  Vance.  "Let  her 
talk!  She's  funny." 

"  No ! "  commanded  Vera.  Her  voice  rang  with 
the  distress.  "She  cannot  do  that!"  She  turned 
to  Miss  Coates.  "We  haven't  hurt  you,"  she 
pleaded;  "we  haven't  taken  your  money.  I 
promise  you,"  she  cried,  "we  will  never  see  Mr. 
Hallowell  again.  I  beg  of  you " 

Vance  indignantly  caught  her  by  the  arm  and 
drew  her  back.  "You  don't  beg  nothing  of  her!" 
he  cried. 

"I  do,"  Vera  answered  wildly.  She  caught 
Vance's  hand  in  both  of  hers.  "I  have  a  chance, 
Paul,"  she  entreated;  "don't  force  me  through 
it  again.  I  can't  stand  the  shame  of  it  again." 
Once  more  she  appealed  to  the  visitor.  "Don't!" 
she  begged.  "Don't  shame  me." 

But  the  eyes  of  the  older  girl,  blind  to  every 
thing  save  what,  as  she  saw  it,  was  her  duty,  showed 
no  consideration. 

in 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Vera's  hands,  trembling  on  his  arm,  drove 
Vance  to  deeper  anger.  He  turned  savagely  upon 
Miss  Coates. 

"You  haven't  lost  anything  yet,  have  you?" 
he  demanded.  "She  hasn't  hurt  you,  has  she? 
If  it's  revenge  you  want,"  he  cried  insolently, 
"why  don't  you  throw  vitriol  on  the  girl?" 

"Revenge!"  exclaimed  Miss  Coates  indig 
nantly.  "It  is  my  duty.  My  public  duty.  I'm 
not  alone  in  this;  I  am  acting  with  the  District 
Attorney.  It  is  our  duty."  She  turned  suddenly 
and  called,  "Mr.  Winthrop,  Mr.  Winthrop!" 

For  the  first  time  Vera  saw,  under  the  gas  jet, 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall,  the  figures  of  Mannie 
and  Winthrop. 

"No,  no!"  she  protested;  "I  beg  of  you,"  she 
cried  hysterically;  "I've  got  a  chance.  If  you 
print  this  thing  to-morrow,  I'll  never  have  a 
chance  again.  Don't  take  it  away  from  me." 
Impulsively  her  arms  reached  out  in  an  eager 
final  appeal.  "I'm  down,"  she  said  simply,  "give 
me  a  chance  to  get  up." 

When  Miss  Coates  came  to  give  battle  to  the 
Vances,  she  foresaw  the  interview  might  be  un 
pleasant.  It  was  proving  even  more  unpleasant 
than  she  had  expected,  but  her  duty  seemed  none 
the  less  obvious. 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"You  should  have  thought  of  that/'  she  said, 
"  before  you  were  found  out." 

For  an  instant  Vera  stood  motionless,  staring, 
unconsciously  holding  the  attitude  of  appeal. 
But  when,  by  these  last  words,  she  recognized 
that  her  humiliation  could  go  no  further,  with  an 
inarticulate  exclamation  she  turned  away. 

"The  public  has  the  right  to  know,"  declared 
Miss  Coates,  "the  sort  of  people  you  are.  I  have 
the  record  of  each  of  you— 

From  the  hall  Winthrop  had  entered  quickly, 
but,  disregarding  him,  Vance  broke  in  upon  the 
speaker,  savagely,  defiantly. 

"Print  'em,  then!"   he  shouted;   "print  'em!" 

"I  mean  to,"  declared  Miss  Coates;  "yours, 
and  hers,  she " 

Winthrop  placed  himself  in  front  of  her,  shut 
ting  her  off  from  the  others.  He  spoke  in  an 
earnest  whisper. 

"Don't!"  he  begged.  "She  has  asked  for  a 
chance.  Give  her  a  chance." 

Miss  Coates  scorned  to  speak  in  whispers. 

"She  has  had  a  chance,"  she  protested  loudly. 
"She's  had  a  chance  for  nine  years;    and  she's 
chosen   to  be   a   charlatan   and   a   cheat,   and- — 
The  angry  woman  hesitated,  and  then  flung  the 
—" and  a  thief!" 

"3 


Vera,  the  Medium 

In  the  silence  that  followed  no  one  turned 
toward  Vera;  but  as  it  continued  unbroken  each 
raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her. 

They  saw  her  drawn  to  her  full  height;  the 
color  flown  from  her  face,  her  deep,  brooding 
eyes  flashing.  She  was  like  one  by  some  relig 
ious  fervor  lifted  out  of  herself,  exalted.  When 
she  spoke  her  voice  was  low,  tense.  It  vibrated 
with  tremendous,  wondering  indignation. 

"Do  you  know  who  I  am?"  she  asked.  She 
spoke  like  one  in  a  trance.  "Do  you  know  who 
you  are  threatening  with  your  police  and  your 
laws  ?  I  am  a  priestess !  I  am  a  medium  between 
the  souls  of  this  world  and  the  next.  I  am  Vera — 
the  Truth!  And  I  mean,"  the  girl  cried  sud 
denly,  harshly,  flinging  out  her  arm,  "that  you 
shall  hear  the  truth!  To-night  I  will  bring  your 
mother  from  the  grave  to  speak  it  to  you!" 

With  a  swift,  sweeping  gesture  she  pointed  to 
the  door.  "Take  those  people  away!"  she 
cried. 

The  eyes  of  Winthrop  were  filled  with  pity. 
"Vera!"  he  said,  "Vera!" 

For  an  instant,  against  the  tenderness  and  re 
proach  in  his  voice  the  girl  held  herself  motionless; 
and  then,  falling  upon  the  shoulder  of  Mrs.  Vance, 
burst  into  girlish,  heart-broken  tears. 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Take  them  away,"  she  sobbed;  "take  them 
away!" 

Mannie  Day  and  Vance  closed  in  upon  the 
visitors,  and  motioning  them  before  them,  drove 
them  from  the  room. 


PART  III 

THE  departure  of  the  District  Attorney  and 
Miss  Coates  left  Vera  free  to  consider  how 
serious,  if  she  carried  out  her  threat,  the  conse 
quences  might  be.  But  of  this  chance  she  did 
not  avail  herself.  Instead,  with  nervous  zeal  she 
began  to  prepare  for  her  masquerade.  It  was  as 
though  her  promise  to  Winthrop  to  abandon  her 
old  friends  had  filled  her  with  remorse,  and  that 
she  now,  by  an  extravagance  of  loyalty,  was  en 
deavoring  to  make  amends. 

At  nine  o'clock,  with  the  Vances,  she  arrived 
at  the  house  of  Mr.  Hallowell.  Already,  to  the 
same  place,  a  wagon  had  carried  the  cabinet,  a 
parlor  organ,  and  a  dozen  of  those  camp-chairs 
that  are  associated  with  house  weddings  and 
funerals;  and  while,  in  the  library,  Vance  and 
Mannie  arranged  these  to  their  liking,  on  the 
third  floor  Vera,  with  Mrs.  Vance,  waited  for  that 
moment  to  arrive  when  Vance  considered  her 
entrance  would  be  the  most  effective. 

This  entrance  was  to  be  made  through  the 
doorway  that  opened  from  the  hall  on  the  second 

117 


Vera,  the  Medium 

story  into  the  library.  To  the  right  of  this  door, 
in  an  angle  of  two  walls,  was  the  cabinet,  and  on 
the  left,  the  first  of  the  camp-chairs.  These  had 
been  placed  in  a  semicircle  that  stretched  across 
the  room,  and  ended  at  the  parlor  organ.  The 
door  from  Mr.  Hallowell's  bedroom  opened  di 
rectly  upon  the  semicircle  at  the  point  most  dis 
tant  from  the  cabinet.  In  the  centre  of  the  semi 
circle  Vance  had  placed  the  invalid's  arm-chair. 

Vance,  in  his  manner  as  professional  and  un 
disturbed  as  a  photographer  focussing  his  camera 
and  arranging  his  screens,  was  explaining  to  Judge 
Gaylor  the  setting  of  his  stage.  The  judge  was 
an  unwilling  audience.  Unlike  the  showman,  for 
him  the  occasion  held  only  terrors.  He  was  driven 
by  misgivings,  swept  by  sudden  panics.  He 
scowled  at  the  cabinet,  intruding  upon  the  privacy 
of  the  room  where  for  years,  without  the  aid  of 
accessories,  by  his  brains  alone,  he  had  brought 
Mr.  Hallowell  almost  to  the  point  of  abject  sub 
mission  to  his  wishes.  He  turned  upon  Vance 
with  bitter  self-disgust. 

"So,  I've  got  down  as  low  as  this,  have  I?" 
he  demanded. 

Vance  heard  him,  undisturbed. 

"I  must  ask  you,"  he  said,  briskly,  "to  help 
me  keep  the  people  just  as  I  seat  them.  They 

118 


Vera,  the  Medium 

will  be  in  this  half-circle  facing  the  cabinet  and 
holding  hands.  Those  we  know  are  against  us," 
he  explained,  "will  have  one  of  my  friends,  Pro 
fessor  Strombergk,  or  Mrs.  Marsh,  or  my  wife, 
on  each  side  of  him.  If  there  should  be  any 
attempt  to  rush  the  cabinet,  we  must  get  there 
first.  I  will  be  outside  the  cabinet  working  the 
rappings,  the  floating  music,  and  the  astral  bod 
ies."  At  the  sight  of  the  expression  these  words 
brought  to  the  face  of  Gaylor,  Vance  permitted 
himself  the  shadow  of  a  smile.  "I  can  take  care 
of  myself,"  he  went  on,  "but  remember — Vera 
must  not  be  caught  outside  the  cabinet!  When 
the  lights  go  up,  she  must  be  found  with  the 
ropes  still  tied." 

Gaylor  turned  from  him  with  an  exclamation 
of  disgust. 

"Pah!"  he  muttered.  "It's  a  hell  of  a  busi 
ness!" 

Vance  continued  unmoved.  "And,  another 
thing,"  he  said,  "about  these  lights:  this  switch 
throws  them  all  off,  doesn't  it?"  He  pressed  a 
button  on  the  left  of  the  door,  and  the  electric 
lights  in  the  walls  and  under  a  green  shade  on 
the  library  table  faded  and  disappeared,  leaving 
the  room,  save  for  the  light  from  the  hall,  in  dark 
ness. 

119 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"That's  the  way  we  want  it,"  said  the  show 
man. 

From  the  hall  Mannie  appeared  between  the 
curtains  that  hung  across  the  doorway.  "What 
are  you  doing  with  the  lights?"  he  demanded. 
"You  want  to  break  my  neck?  All  our  people 
are  downstairs,"  he  announced. 

Vance  turned  on  the  lights.  At  the  same 
moment  Rainey  came  from  the  bedroom  into  the 
library.  It  was  evident  that  to  sustain  his  courage 
he  had  been  drinking.  He  made  no  effort  to  greet 
those  in  the  room,  but  stood,  glaring  resentfully 
at  the  cabinet  and  the  row  of  chairs. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Vance  cheerfully,  "if  our 
folks  are  all  here,  we're  all  right." 

Glancing  behind  him,  Mannie  took  Vance  by 
the  sleeve,  and  led  him  to  the  centre  of  the  room. 

"No,  we're  not  all  right,"  said  the  boy;  "that 
Miss  Coates  has  brought  a  friend  with  her.  She 
says  Hallowell  told  her  she  could  bring  a  friend. 
She  says  this  young  fellow  is  her  friend.  I  think 
he's  a  Pink!" 

"What  nonsense,"  exclaimed  Gaylor  in  alarm. 
"No  detective  would  force  his  way  into  this 
house." 

"She  says,"  continued  Mannie,  disregarding 
Gaylor,  and  still  addressing  Vance,  "  'he's  a 

120 


Vera,  the  Medium 

seeker  after  the  Truth/  I'll  bet,"  declared  the 
boy  violently,  "he's  a  seeker  after  the  truth!" 

Garrett  came  hastily  and  noiselessly  into  the 
room.  He  nodded  toward  Mannie. 

"Has he  told  you?"   he  asked. 

"Yes,"  Gaylor  answered;    "who  is  he?" 

"The  reporter  who  was  here  this  morning," 
Garrett  returned.  "The  one  who  threatened " 

"That'll  do,"  commanded  Gaylor.  In  the 
face  of  this  new  complication  he  again  became 
himself.  Suavely  and  politely  he  turned  to  Vance. 
"Will  you  and  your  friend  join  Miss  Vera,"  he 
asked,  "and  tell  her  that  we  begin  in  a  few  min 
utes?" 

For  the  first  time,  aggressively  and  offensively 
Rainey  broke  his  silence. 

"No,  we  won't  begin  in  a  few  minutes,"  he 
announced,  "not  by  a  damned  sight!" 

The  explosion  was  so  unexpected  that,  for  an 
instant,  while  the  eyes  of  all  were  fixed  in  as 
tonishment  upon  the  speaker,  there  was  complete 
silence.  Gaylor,  still  suave,  still  polite,  looked 
toward  Vance,  and  motioned  him  to  the  door. 

"Will  you  kindly  do  as  I  ask  ?"  he  said.  With 
Mannie  at  his  side,  Vance  walked  quickly  from 
the  room.  Once  in  the  hall,  the  boy  laid  a  de 
taining  hand  upon  the  arm  of  the  older  man. 

121 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"If  you'll  take  my  advice,  which  you  won't," 
he  said,  "we'll  all  cut  and  run  now,  while  we  got 
the  chance!" 

In  the  library,  Gaylor  turned  savagely  upon  his 
fellow-conspirator. 

"Well!"   he  demanded. 

Rainey  frowned  at  him  sulkily.  "I  wash  my 
hands  of  the  whole  thing!"  he  cried. 

Gaylor  dropped  his  voice  to  a  whisper. 

"What  are  you  afraid  of  now  ?"  he  demanded. 
"If  you're  not  afraid  of  a  district  attorney,  why 
are  you  afraid  of  a  reporter  ? " 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  anybody,"  returned  Rainey, 
thickly.  "But,  I  don't  mean  to  be  a  party  to 
no  murder!"  He  paused,  shaking  his  head  por 
tentously.  "That  man  in  there,"  he  whispered, 
nodding  toward  the  bedroom,  "is  in  no  condition 
to  go  through  this.  After  that  shock  this  morning, 
and  last  night — it'll  kill  him.  His  heart's  rotten, 
I  tell  you,  rotten!" 

Garrett  snarled  contemptuously. 

"How  do  you  know?"    he  demanded. 

"How  do  I  know?"  returned  Rainey,  fiercely; 
"I  was  four  years  in  a  medical  college,  when  you 
were  in  jail,  you " 

"Stop  that!"  cried  Gaylor.  Glancing  fearfully 
toward  the  open  door,  he  interposed  between  them. 


122 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Don't  take  my  advice,  then/'  cried  Rainey. 
"Go  on!  Kill  him!  And  he  won't  sign  your 
will.  Only,  don't  say  I  didn't  tell  you." 

"Have  you  told  him?"    demanded  Gaylor. 

"Yes,"  Rainey  answered  stoutly.  "Told  him 
if  he  didn't  stop  this,  he  wouldn't  live  till  morn- 
ing." 

"Are  we  forcing  him  to  do  this?"  demanded 
Gaylor.  "No!  he's  forcing  it  on  us.  My  God!" 
he  exclaimed,  "  do  you  think  I  want  this  farce  ? 
You  say,  yourself,  you  told  him  it  would  kill  him, 
and  he  will  go  on  with  it.  Then  why  do  you 
blame  us  ?  Can  we  help  ourselves  ?" 

The  butler  had  distinguished  the  sounds  of 
footsteps  in  the  hall.  He  fell  hastily  to  rearrang 
ing  the  camp-chairs. 

"Hush!"  he  warned.  "Look  out!"  Gaylor 
and  Rainey  had  but  time  to  move  apart,  when 
Winthrop  entered.  He  regarded  the  three  men 
with  a  smile  of  understanding. 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  interrupt- 
ing?" 

Gaylor  greeted  him  with  exaggerated  heartiness. 

"Ah,  it  is  Mr.  Winthrop!"  he  cried.  "Have 
you  come  to  help  us  find  out  the  truth  this  even- 


ing?" 


I  certainly  hope  not!"  said  Winthrop  brusque- 
123 


Vera,  the  Medium 

ly.  "I  know  the  truth  about  too  many  people 
already."  He  turned  to  Garrett,  who,  unob 
trusively,  was  endeavoring  to  make  his  escape. 

"I  want  to  see  Miss  Vera,"  he  said. 

"Miss  Vera,"  interposed  Gaylor.  "I'm  afraid 
that's  not  possible.  She  especially  asked  not  to 
be  disturbed  before  the  seance.  I'm  sorry." 

Winthrop's  manner  became  suspiciously  po 
lite. 

"Yes?"  he  inquired.  "Well,  nevertheless  I 
think  I'll  ask  her.  Tell  Miss  Vera,  please,"  he 
said  to  Garrett,  "that  Mr.  Winthrop  would  like 
a  word  with  her  here,"  with  significance  he 
added,  "in  private." 

In  offended  dignity,  Judge  Gaylor  moved 
toward  the  door.  "Dr.  Rainey,"  he  said  stiffly, 
"will  you  please  inform  Mr.  Hallowell  that  his 
guests  are  now  here,  and  that  I  have  gone  to  bring 
them  upstairs." 

"Yes,  but  you  won't  bring  them  upstairs, 
please,"  said  Winthrop,  "until  you  hear  from 


me." 


Gaylor  flushed  with  anger  and  for  a  moment 
appeared  upon  the  point  of  mutiny.  Then,  as 
though  refusing  to  consider  himself  responsible 
for  the  manners  of  the  younger  man,  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  left  the  room. 

124 


Vera,  the  Medium 

With  even  less  of  consideration  than  he  had 
shown  to  Judge  Gaylor,  Winthrop  turned  upon 
Rainey. 

"How's  your  patient ?"  he  asked  shortly. 
Rainey  was  sufficiently  influenced  by  the  liquor 
he  had  taken  to  dare  to  resent  Winthrop's  per 
emptory  tone.  His  own  in  reply  was  designedly 
offensive. 

"My  patient?"  he  inquired. 

"Mr.  Hallowell,"  snapped  Winthrop;  "he's 
sick,  isn't  he?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  returned  the  Doctor. 

"You  don't  know?"  demanded  Winthrop. 
"Well,  /  know.  I  know  if  he  goes  through  this 
thing  to-night,  he'll  have  another  collapse.  I 
saw  one  this  morning.  Why  don't  you  forbid  it  ? 
You're  his  medical  adviser,  aren't  you?" 

Rainey  remained  sullenly  silent. 

"Answer  me!"  insisted  the  District  Attorney. 
"You  are,  aren't  you  ?" 

"I  am,"  at  last  declared  Rainey. 

"Well,  then,"  commanded  Winthrop,  "tell 
him  to  stop  this.  Tell  him  /  advise  it." 

Through  his  glasses  Rainey  blinked  violently 
at  the  District  Attorney,  and  laughed. 

"I  didn't  know,"  he  said,  "that  you  were  a 
medical  man." 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Winthrop  looked  at  the  Doctor  so  steadily, 
and  for  so  long  a  time,  that  the  eyes  of  the  young 
man  sought  the  floor  and  the  ceiling;  and  his 
sneer  changed  to  an  expression  of  discomfort. 

"I  am  not,"  said  Winthrop.  "I  am  the  Dis 
trict  Attorney  of  New  York."  His  tones  were 
cold,  precise;  they  fell  upon  the  superheated 
brain  of  Dr.  Rainey  like  drops  from  an  icicle. 
"When  I  took  over  that  office,"  continued  Win 
throp,  "I  found  a  complaint  against  two  medical 
students,  a  failure  to  report  the  death  of  an  old 
man  in  a  private  sanitarium."  Winthrop  lowered 
his  eyes,  and  became  deeply  absorbed  in  the  toe 
of  his  boot.  "I  haven't  looked  into  the  papers, 
yet,"  he  said. 

Rainey,  swaying  slightly,  jerked  open  the  door 
of  the  bedroom.  "  I'll  tell  him,"  he  panted  thickly. 
"I'll  tell  him  to  do  as  you  say." 

"Thank  you,  I  wish  you  would,"  said  Winthrop. 

At  the  same  moment,  from  the  hall,  Garrett 
announced,  "Mrs.  Vance,  sir."  And  Mabel  Vance, 
tremulous  and  frightened,  entered  the  room. 

Winthrop  approached  her  eagerly. 

"Ah!  Mrs.  Vance,"  he  exclaimed,  "can  I  see 
Miss  Vera?" 

Embarrassed  and  unhappy,  Mrs.  Vance  moved 
restlessly  from  foot  to  foot,  and  shook  her  head. 

126 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Please,  Mr.  District  Attorney/'  she  begged, 
"I'm  afraid  not.  This  afternoon  upset  her  so. 
And  she's  so  nervous  and  queer  that  the  Pro 
fessor  thinks  she  shouldn't  see  nobody." 

Winthrop  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"The  Professor?"  he  commented.  His  voice 
was  considerate,  conciliatory.  "Now,  Mrs. 
Vance,"  he  said,  "I've  known  Miss  Vera  ever 
since  she  was  a  little  girl,  known  her  longer  than 
you  have,  and,  I'm  her  friend,  and  you're  her 
friend,  and " 

"I  am,"  protested  Mabel  Vance  tearfully. 
"Indeed  I  am!" 

"  I  know  you  are,"  Winthrop  interrupted  hastily. 
"You've  been  more  than  a  friend  to  her,  you've 
been  a  sister,  mother,  and  you  don't  want  any 
trouble  to  come  to  her,  do  you  ? " 

"I  don't,"  cried  the  woman.  "Oh!"  she  ex 
claimed  miserably,  "I  told  them  there'd  be 
trouble!" 

Winthrop  laughed  reassuringly. 

"Well,  there  won't  be  any  trouble,"  he  de 
clared,  "if  7  can  help  it.  And  if  you  want  to 
help  her,  help  me.  Persuade  her  to  let  me  talk 
to  her.  Don't  mind  what  the  Professor  says." 

"I  will,"  declared  Mrs.  Vance  with  determi 
nation,  "I  will."  She  started  eagerly  toward  the 

127 


Vera,  the  Medium 

hall,  and  then  paused  and  returned.  Her  hands 
were  clasped;  her  round,  baby  eyes,  wet  with 
tears,  were  fixed  upon  Winthrop  appealingly. 

"Oh,  please,"  she  pleaded,  "you're  not  going 
to  hurt  him,  are  you  ?  Paul,  my  husband,"  she 
explained;  "he's  been  such  a  good  husband  to 


me." 


Winthrop  laughed  uneasily. 

"Why,  that'll  be  all  right,"  he  protested. 

"He  doesn't  mean  any  harm,"  insisted  Mrs. 
Vance;  "he's  on  the  level;  true,  he  is!" 

"Why,  of  course,  of  course,"  Winthrop  as 
sented. 

Unsatisfied,  Mrs.  Vance  burst  into  tears.  "It's 
this  spirit  business  that  makes  the  trouble!"  she 
cried.  "I  tell  them  to  cut  it  out.  Now,  the  mind- 
reading  at  the  theatre,"  she  sobbed,  "there's  no 
harm  in  that,  is  there  ?  And  there's  twice  the 
money  in  it.  But  this  ghost  raising"-  -  she  raised 
her  eyes  appealingly,  as  though  begging  to  be 
contradicted — "it's  sure  to  get  him  into  trouble, 
isn't  it?" 

Winthrop  shook  his  head,  and  smiled. 

"It  may,"  he  said.  Mrs.  Vance  broke  into  a 
fresh  outburst  of  tears.  "I  knew  it,"  she  cried, 
"  I  knew  it."  Winthrop  placed  his  hand  upon  her 
arm  and  turned  her  in  the  direction  of  the  door. 

128 


Vera,  the  Medium 

" Don't  worry,"  he  said  soothingly.  "Go  send 
Miss  Vera  here.  And,"  he  called  after  her,  "don't 
worry." 

As  Mabel  departed  upon  his  errand,  Rainey  re- 
entered  from  the  bedroom.  He  carefully  closed 
the  door  and  halted  with  his  hand  upon  the  knob, 
and  shook  his  head. 

"It's  no  use,"  he  said,  "he  will  go  on  with  it. 
It's  not  my  fault,"  he  whined;  "I  told  him  it  would 
kill  him.  I  couldn't  make  it  any  stronger  than 
that,  could  I?" 

Rainey  was  not  looking  at  Winthrop,  but,  as 
though  fearful  of  interruption,  toward  the  door. 
His  eyes  were  harassed,  furtive,  filled  with  miser 
able  indecision.  Many  times  before  Winthrop 
had  seen  men  in  such  a  state.  He  knew  that  for 
the  sufferer  it  foretold  a  physical  break-down,  or 
that  he  would  seek  relief  in  full  confession.  To 
give  the  man  confidence,  he  abandoned  his  atti 
tude  of  suspicion. 

"That  certainly  would  be  strong  enough  for 
me,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "Did  you  tell  him  what 
I  advised?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  muttered  Rainey  impatiently. 
"He  said  you  were  invited  here  to  give  advice  to 
his  niece,  not  to  him."  For  the  first  time  his 
eyes  met  those  of  Winthrop  boldly.  The  District 

129 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Attorney  recognized  that  the  man  had  taken  his 
fears  by  the  throat,  and  had  arrived  at  his  decision. 

"See  here,"  exclaimed  Rainey;  "could  I  give 
you  some  information  ? " 

"I'm  sure  you  could,"  returned  Winthrop 
briskly.  "Give  it  to  me  now." 

But  Rainey,  glancing  toward  the  door,  shrank 
back.  Winthrop,  following  the  direction  of  his  eyes, 
saw  Vera.  Impatiently  he  waved  Rainey  away. 

"At  the  office,  to-morrow  morning,"  he  com 
manded. 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  at  the  reprieve,  Rainey 
slipped  back  into  the  bedroom. 

Winthrop  had  persuaded  himself  that  in  seek 
ing  to  speak  with  Vera,  he  was  making  only  a 
natural  choice  between  preventing  the  girl  from 
perpetrating  a  fraud,  or,  later,  for  that  fraud, 
holding  her  to  account.  But  when  she  actually 
stood  before  him,  he  recognized  how  absurdly 
he  had  deceived  himself.  At  the  mere  physical 
sight  of  her,  there  came  to  him  a  swift  relief,  a 
thrill  of  peace  and  deep  content;  and  with  de 
lighted  certainty  he  knew  that  what  Vera  might 
do  or  might  not  do  concerned  him  not  at  all,  that 
for  him  all  that  counted  was  the  girl  herself. 
With  something  of  this  showing  in  his  face,  he 
came  eagerly  toward  her. 

130 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Vera!"  he  exclaimed.  In  the  word  there 
was  delight,  wonder,  tenderness;  but  if  the  girl 
recognized  this  she  concealed  her  knowledge. 
Instead,  her  eyes  looked  into  his  frankly;  her 
manner  was  that  of  open  friendliness. 

"Mabel  tells  me  you  want  to  talk  to  me/'  she 
said  evenly,  "but  I  don't  want  you  to.  /  have 
something  I  want  to  say  to  you.  I  could  have 
written  it,  but  this" — for  an  instant  the  girl 
paused  with  her  lips  pressed  together;  when  she 
spoke,  her  voice  carried  the  firmness  and  finality 
of  one  delivering  a  verdict — "but  this,"  she  re 
peated,  "is  the  last  time  you  shall  hear  from  me, 
or  see  me  again." 

Winthrop  gave  an  exclamation  of  impatience, 
of  indignation. 

"No,"  returned  the  girl,  "it  is  quite  final. 
Maybe  you  will  not  want  to  see  me,  but " 

Winthrop  again  sharply  interrupted  her.  His 
voice  was  filled  with  reproach.  "Vera!"  he  pro 
tested. 

"Well,"  said  the  girl  more  gently,  "I'm  glad 
to  think  you  do,  but  this  is  the  last,  and  before 
I  go,  I " 

"Go!"  demanded  Winthrop  roughly.  "Where  ?" 

"Before  I  go,"  continued  the  girl,  "I  want  to 


Vera,  the  Medium 

tell  you  how  much  you  have  helped  me — I  want 
to  thank  you " 

"You  haven't  let  me  thank  you,"  broke  in 
Winthrop,  "and,  now,  you  pretend  this  is  our  last 
meeting.  It's  absurd!" 

"It  is  our  last  meeting,"  replied  the  girl.  Of 
the  two,  for  the  moment,  she  was  the  older,  the 
more  contained. 

"On  the  contrary,"  contradicted  the  man.  He 
spoke  sharply,  in  a  tone  he  tried  to  make  as  de 
termined  as  her  own.  "Our  next  meeting  will 
be  in  ten  minutes — at  my  sister's.  I  have  told 
her  about  this  afternoon,  and  about  you;  and 
she  wants  very  much  to  meet  you.  She  has 
sent  her  car  for  you.  It's  waiting  in  front  of 
the  house.  Now,"  he  commanded  masterfully, 
"you  come  with  me,  and  get  in  it,  and  leave  all 
this" — he  gave  an  angry,  contemptuous  wave  of 
the  hand  toward  the  cabinet — "behind  you,  as," 
he  added  earnestly,  "you  promised  me  you  would." 

As  though  closing  from  sight  the  possibility 
he  suggested,  the  girl  shut  her  eyes  quickly,  and 
then  opened  them  again  to  meet  his. 

"I  can't  leave  these  things  behind  me,"  she 
said  quietly.  "I  told  you  so  this  afternoon.  For 
a  moment,  you  made  me  think  I  could,  and  I 

132 


Vera,  the  Medium 

did  promise.  I  didn't  need  to  promise.  It's  what 
I've  prayed  for.  Then,  you  saw  what  happened, 
you  saw  I  was  right.  Within  five  minutes  that 
woman  came " 

"That  woman  had  a  motive,"  protested  Win- 
throp. 

"That  woman,"  continued  the  girl  patiently, 
"or  some  other  woman.  What  does  it  matter? 
In  five  minutes,  or  five  days,  some  one  would  have 
told."  She  leaned  toward  him  anxiously.  "I'm 
not  complaining,"  she  said;  "it's  my  own  fault. 
It's  the  life  I've  chosen."  She  hesitated  and  then, 
as  though  determined  to  carry  out  a  programme 
she  had  already  laid  down  for  herself,  continued 
rapidly:  "And  what  I  want  to  tell  you,  is,  that 
what's  best  in  that  life  I  owe  to  you." 

"Vera!"    cried  the  man  sharply. 

"Listen!"  said  the  girl.  Her  eyes  were  alight, 
eager.  She  spoke  frankly,  proudly,  without  em 
barrassment,  without  fear  of  being  misconstrued, 
as  a  man  might  speak  to  a  man. 

"I'd  be  ungrateful,  I'd  be  a  coward,"  said  the 
girl,  "if  I  went  away  and  didn't  tell  you.  For 
ten  years  I've  been  counting  on  you.  I  made  you 
a  sort  of  standard.  I  said,  as  long  as  he  keeps  to 
his  ideals,  I'm  going  to  keep  to  mine.  Maybe 
you  think  my  ideals  have  not  been  very  high, 


Vera,  the  Medium 

but  anyway  you've  made  it  easy  for  me.  Because 
Fm  in  this  business,  because  I'm  good-looking 
enough,  certain  men  " —  the  voice  of  the  girl  grew 
hard  and  cool — "have  done  me  the  honor  to  insult 
me,  and  it  was  knowing  you,  and  that  there  are 
others  like  you,  that  helped  me  not  to  care." 
The  girl  paused.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  his 
frankly.  The  look  in  them  was  one  of  pride  in 
him,  of  loyalty,  of  affection.  "And  now,  since  I've 
met  you,"  she  went  on,  "I  find  you're  just  as  I 
imagined  you'd  be,  just  as  I'd  hoped  you'd  be." 
She  reached  out  her  hand  warningly,  appealingly. 
"And  I  don't  want  you  to  change,  to  let  down, 
to  grow  discouraged.  You  can't  tell  how  many 
more  people  are  counting  on  you."  She  hesitated 
and,  as  though  at  last  conscious  of  her  own  bold 
ness,  flushed  deprecatingly,  like  one  asking  par 
don.  "You  men  in  high  places," she  stammered, 
"you're  like  light-houses  showing  the  way.  You 
don't  know  how  many  people  you  are  helping. 
You  can't  see  them.  You  can't  tell  how  many 
boats  are  following  your  light,  but  if  your  light 
goes  out,  they  are  wrecked."  She  gave  a  sigh 
of  relief.  "That's  what  I  wanted  to  tell  you," 
she  said;  "and,  so  thank  you."  She  held  out  her 
hand.  "And,  good-by." 

Winthrop's    answer    was    to    clasp    her    hand 


Vera,  the  Medium 

quickly  in  both  of  his,  and  draw  her  toward 
him. 

"Vera,"  he  begged,  "come  with  me  now!" 

The  girl  withdrew  her  hand  and  moved  away 
from  him,  frowning.  "No,"  she  said,  "no;  you 
do  not  want  to  understand.  I  have  my  work  to 
do  to-night." 

Winthrop  gave  an  exclamation  of  anger. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  cried,  "that 
you're  going  on  with  this  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  said.  And  then  in  sudden  alarm 
cried :  "  But  not  if  you're  here !  I'll  fail  if  you're 
here.  Promise  me,  you  will  not  be  here." 

"Indeed,"  cried  the  man  indignantly,  "I  will 
not!  But  I'll  be  downstairs  when  you  need 
me.  And,"  he  added  warningly,  "you'll  need 


me." 


"No,"  said  the  girl.  "No  matter  what  happens, 
I  tell  you,  between  us,  this  is  the  end." 

"Then,"  begged  the  man,  "if  this  is  the  end, 
for  God's  sake,  Vera,  as  my  last  request,  do  not  do 
it!" 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  repeated 
firmly.  "I've  tried  to  get  away  from  it,  and  each 
time  they've  forced  me  back.  Now,  I'll  go  on  with 
it.  I've  promised  Paul,  and  the  others.  And  you 
heard  me  promise  that  woman." 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"But  you  didn't  mean  that!"  protested  the 
man.  "She  insulted  you;  you  were  angry.  You're 
angry  now,  piqued — • — " 

"Mr.  Winthrop,"  interrupted  the  girl,  "to-day 
you  told  me  I  was  not  playing  the  game.  You 
told  the  truth.  When  you  said  this  was  a  mean 
business,  you  were  right.  But" — for  the  first  time 
since  she  had  spoken  her  tones  were  shaken,  un 
certain — "  I've  been  driven  out  of  every  other  busi 
ness."  She  waited  until  her  voice  was  again  under 
control,  and  then  said  slowly,  definitely,  "And,  to 
night,  I  am  going  to  show  Mr.  Hallowell  the  spirit 
of  his  sister." 

In  the  eyes  of  Winthrop  the  look  of  pain,  of  dis 
appointment,  of  reproach,  was  so  keen,  that  the 
girl  turned  her  own  away. 

"No,"  said  the  man  gently,  "you  will  not  do 
that." 

"You  can  stop  my  doing  it  to-night,"  returned 
the  girl,  "but  at  some  other  time,  at  some  other 
place,  I  will  do  it." 

"You  yourself  will  stop  it,"  said  Winthrop. 
"You  are  too  honest,  too  fine,  to  act  such  a  lie. 
Why  not  be  yourself  ? "  he  begged.  "  Why  not  dis 
appoint  these  other  people  who  do  not  know  you  ? 
Why  disappoint  the  man  who  knows  you  best,  who 

trusts  you,  who  believes  in  you " 

136 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"You  are  the  very  one,"  interrupted  the  girl, 
"who  doesn't  know  me.  I  am  not  fine;  I  am  not 
honest.  I  am  a  charlatan  and  a  cheat;  I  am  all 
that  woman  called  me.  And  that  is  why  you 
can't  know  me.  That's  why,  I  told  you,  if  you 
did,  you  would  be  sorry." 

"I  am  not  sorry,"  said  Winthrop. 

"You  will  be,"  returned  the  girl,  "before  the 
night  is  over." 

"On  the  contrary,"  answered  the  man  quietly, 
"I  shall  wait  here  to  congratulate  you — on  your 
failure." 

"I  shall  not  fail,"  said  the  girl.  Avoiding  his 
eyes,  she  turned  from  him  and,  for  a  moment, 
stood  gazing  before  her  miserably.  Her  lips 
were  trembling,  her  eyes  moist  with  rising  tears. 
Then  she  faced  him,  her  head  raised  defiantly. 

"  I  have  been  hounded  out  of  every  decent  way 
of  living,"  she  protested  hysterically.  "I  can 
make  thousands  of  dollars  to-night,"  she  cried, 
"out  of  this  one." 

Winthrop  looked  straight  into  her  eyes.  His 
own  were  pleading,  full  of  tenderness  and  pity; 
so  eloquent  with  meaning  that  those  of  the  girl 
fell  before  them. 

"That  is  no  answer,"  said  the  man.  "You 
know  it's  not.  I  tell  you — you  will  fail." 


Vera,  the  Medium 

From  the  hall  Judge  Gaylor  entered  noisily. 
Instinctively  the  man  and  girl  moved  nearer 
together,  and  upon  the  intruder  Winthrop  turned 
angrily. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  sharply. 

"I  thought  you  had  finished  your  talk/'  pro 
tested  the  Judge.  "Mr.  Hallowell  is  anxious  to 
begin." 

Winthrop  turned  and  looked  at  Vera  steadily. 
For  an  instant  the  eyes  of  the  girl  faltered,  and  then 
she  returned  his  glance  with  one  as  resolute  as  his 
own.  As  though  accepting  her  verdict  as  final, 
Winthrop  walked  quickly  to  the  door.  "I  shall 
be  downstairs/'  he  said;  "when  this  is  over,  let 
me  know." 

Gaylor  struggled  to  conceal  his  surprise  and 
satisfaction.  "You  won't  be  here  for  the  seance  ?" 
he  exclaimed. 

"Certainly  not,"  cried  Winthrop.  "I—"  He 
broke  off  suddenly.  Without  again  looking  tow 
ard  Vera,  or  trying  to  hide  his  displeasure,  he 
left  the  room 

Gaylor  tui  d  to  the  girl.  He  was  smiling 
with  relief. 

"Excellent!"  he  muttered.  "Excellent!  What 
was  he  saying  to  you,"  he  asked  eagerly,  "as  I 
came  in — that  you  would  fail  ?" 

138 


Vera,  the  Medium 

The  girl  moved  past  him  to  the  door.  "Yes," 
she  answered  dully. 

"But  you  will  not!"  cried  the  man.  "We're 
all  counting  on  you,  you  know.  'Destroy  the 
old  will.  Sign  the  new  will/  "  he  quoted.  He 
came  close  to  her  and  whispered:  "That  means 
thousands  of  dollars  to  you  and  Vance,"  he  urged. 

The  girl  turned  and  regarded  him  with  un 
happy,  angry  eyes. 

"You  need  not  be  frightened,"  she  answered. 
For  the  man  before  her  and  for  herself,  her  voice 
was  bitter  with  contempt  and  self-accusation. 
"Mr.  Winthrop  is  mistaken.  He  does  not  know 
me,"  she  said  miserably.  "  I  shall  not  fail." 

For  a  moment,  after  she  had  left  him,  Gaylor 
stood  motionless,  his  eyes  filled  with  concern,  and 
then,  with  a  shrug,  as  though  accepting  either  good 
or  evil  fortune,  he  called  from  the  bedroom  Mr. 
Hallowell,  and,  from  the  floor  below,  the  guests 
of  Hallowell  and  of  Vance. 

As  Hallowell,  supported  by  Rainey,  sank  into 
the  invalid's  chair  in  the  centre  of  the  semicircle, 
Gaylor  made  his  final  appeal. 

"Stephen,"  he  begged;  "are  you  sure  you're 
feeling  strong  enough  ?  Won't  some  other 
night " 

The  old  man  interrupted  him  querulously. 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"No,  now!  I  want  it  over,"  he  commanded. 
"Who  knows,"  he  complained,  "how  soon  it 
may  be  before " 

The  sight  of  Mannie  entering  the  room  with 
Vance  caused  him  to  interrupt  himself  abruptly. 
He  greeted  the  showman  with  a  curt  nod. 

"And  who  is  this?"   he  demanded. 

Mannie,  to  whom  a  living  millionaire  was 
much  more  of  a  disturbing  spectacle  than  the 
ghost  of  Alexander  the  Great,  retreated  hastily 
behind  Vance. 

"He  is  my  assistant,"  Vance  explained.  "He 
furnishes  the  music."  He  pushed  Mannie  toward 
the  organ. 

"Music!"  growled  Hallowell.  "Must  there  be 
music  ? " 

"It  is  indispensable,"  protested  Vance.    "Music, 

sir,   is   one   of  the   strongest   psychic   influences. 
jt 99 

"Nonsense!"  cried  Hallowell.  "Tricks,"  he 
muttered;  "tricks!" 

Vance  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  smiled  in 
deprecation.  "I  am  sorry  to  find  you  in  a  scepti 
cal  mood,  Mr.  Hallowell,"  he  murmured  reprov 
ingly.  "It  will  hardly  help  to  produce  good  re 
sults.  Allow  me,"  he  begged,  "to  present  two  true 
believers." 

140 


Vera,  the  Medium 

With  a  wave  of  the  hand  he  beckoned  forward 
a  stout,  gray-haired  woman  with  bulging,  near 
sighted  eyes  that  rolled  meaninglessly  behind 
heavy  gold  spectacles. 

"Mrs.  Marsh,  of  Lynn,  Massachusetts,"  pro 
claimed  Vance,  "of  whom  you  have  heard.  Mrs. 
Marsh,"  he  added,  "is  probably  the  first  medium 
in  America.  The  results  she  has  obtained  are  quite 
wonderful.  She  alone  foretold  the  San  Francisco 
earthquake,  and  the  run  on  the  Long  Acre  Square 
Bank." 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  you,"  said  Mr.  Hallowell. 
"Pardon  my  not  rising." 

The  old  lady  curtesied  obsequiously. 

"Oh,  certainly,  Mr.  Hallowell,"  she  protested. 
"Mr.  Hallowell,"  she  went  on,  rolling  the  name 
delightedly  on  her  tongue,  "I  need  not  tell  you 
how  greatly  we  spiritualists  rejoice  over  your 
joining  the  ranks  of  the  believers." 

Hallowell  nodded.  He  was  not  altogether  unim 
pressed.  "Thanks,"  he  commented  dryly.  "But 
I  am  not  quite  there  yet,  madam." 

"We  hope,"  said  Vance  sententiously,  "to  con 
vince  Mr.  Hallowell  to-night." 

"And  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Hallowell,"  cried  the  old 
lady,  "if  any  one  can  do  it,  little  Miss  Vera  can. 
Hers  is  a  wonderful  gift,  sir,  a  wonderful  gift!" 

141 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  returned  Hal- 
lowell. 

He  nodded  to  her  in  dismissal,  and  turned  to 
the  next  visitor.  "And  this  gentleman?"  he 
asked. 

"Professor  Strombergk,"  announced  Vance; 
"the  distinguished  writer  on  psychic  and  occult 
subjects,  editor  of  The  World  Beyond" 

A  tall,  full-bearded  German,  in  a  too-short 
frock-coat,  bowed  awkwardly.  Upon  him,  as 
upon  Mannie,  had  fallen  the  spell  of  the  Halloweli 
fortune.  He,  who  chatted  familiarly  with  departed 
popes  and  emperors,  who  daily  was  in  communi 
cation  with  Goethe,  Caesar,  and  Epictetus,  thrilled 
with  embarrassment  before  the  man  who  had 
made  millions  from  a  coupling-pin. 

"And  Helen!"  Mr.  Halloweli  cried,  as  Miss 
Coates  followed  the  Professor.  "That  is  all,  is 
it  not?"  he  asked. 

Miss  Coates  moved  aside  to  disclose  the  per 
son  of  the  reporter  from  the  Republic,  Homer  Lee. 

"I  have  taken  you  at  your  word,  uncle,"  she 
said;  "and  have  brought  a  friend  with  me." 
In  some  trepidation  she  added: 

"He  is  Mr.  Lee,  a  reporter  fcom  the  Republic." 

"A  reporter!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Halloweli.  Dis 
turbed  and  yet  amused  at  the  audacity  of  his 

142 


'Professor  Strombergk,"  announced  Vance 


Vera,  the  Medium 

niece,  he  shook  his  head  reprovingly.  "I  don't 
think  I  meant  reporters,"  he  remonstrated. 

"You  said  in  your  note,"  returned  his  niece, 
"that  as  I  had  so  much  at  stake,  I  could  bring 
any  one  I  pleased,  and  the  less  he  believed  in 
spiritualism,  the  better.  Mr.  Lee,"  she  added 
dryly,  "believes  even  less  than  I  do." 

"Then  it  will  be  all  the  more  of  a  triumph,  if 
we  convince  him,"  declared  Hallowell.  "Under 
stand,  young  man,"  he  proclaimed  loudly,  "I 
am  not  a  spiritualist.  I  am  merely  conducting  an 
investigation.  I  want  the  truth.  If  you,  or  my 
niece,  detect  any  fraud  to-night,  I  want  to  know 
it."  Including  in  his  speech  the  others  in  the 
room,  he  glared  suspiciously  in  turn  at  each. 
"Keep  your  eyes  open,"  he  ordered;  "you  will  be 
serving  me  quite  as  much  as  you  will  Miss  Coates." 

Miss  Coates  and  Lee  thanked  him  and,  recog 
nizing  themselves  as  the  opposition  and  in  the 
minority,  withdrew  for  consultation  into  a  corner 
of  the  bay-window. 

Vance  approached  Mr.  Hallowell. 

"If  you  are  ready,"  he  said,  "we  will  examine 
the  cabinet.  Shall  I  wheel  it  over  here,  or  will 
you  look  at  it  where  it  is  ?" 

"  If  it  is  to  be  in  that  corner  during  the  seance," 
declared  Mr.  Hallowell,  "I'll  look  at  it  where  it  is." 


Vera,  the  Medium 

As  he  struggled  from  his  chair,  he  turned  to 
Mrs.  Marsh,  and  nodded  his  head  knowingly. 
"You  see,  Mrs.  Marsh,"  he  said,  "I  am  taking  no 
chances." 

"That  is  quite  right,  Mr.  Hallowell,"  purred  the 
old  lady.  "  If  there  be  any  doubt  in  your  mind, 
you  must  get  rid  of  it,  or  we  will  have  no  results." 

With  a  dramatic  gesture,  Vance  swept  aside 
from  the  opening  in  the  cabinet  the  black  velvet 
curtain.  "It's  a  simple  affair,"  he  said  indiffer 
ently.  "As  you  see,  it's  open  at  the  top  and  bot 
tom.  The  medium  sits  inside  on  that  chair, 
bound  hand  and  foot." 

In  turn,  Mr.  Hallowell,  Mrs.  Marsh,  Gaylor, 
Rainey,  Professor  Strombergk  entered  the  cabi 
net.  With  their  knuckles  they  beat  upon  its  sides. 
They  moved  it  to  and  fro.  They  dropped  to  their 
knees,  and  with  their  fingers  tugged  at  the  carpet 
upon  which  it  stood. 

Under  cover  of  their  questions,  in  the  corner 
of  the  bay-window,  Miss  Coates  whispered  to  Lee: 

"Don't  look  now,"  she  warned,  "but  later,  you 
will  see  on  the  left  of  that  door  the  switch  that 
throws  on  the  lights.  When  I  am  sure  she  is 
outside  the  cabinet,  when  she  has  told  him  not 
to  give  the  money  to  me,  I'll  cry,  'now!'  and 
whichever  one  of  us  is  seated  nearer  to  the  switch 

144 


Vera,  the  Medium 

will  turn  on  all  the  lights.  I  think,"  Miss  Coates 
added  with,  in  her  voice,  a  thrill  of  triumph  not 
altogether  free  from  a  touch  of  vindictiveness, 
"when  my  uncle  sees  her  caught  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  disguised  as  his  sister — we  will  have 
cured  him." 

"It  may  be,"  said  the  man. 

The  possibility  of  success  as  Miss  Coates  pointed 
it  out  did  not  appear  to  stir  in  him  any  great  de 
light.  He  glanced  unwillingly  over  his  shoulder. 
"I  see  the  switch,"  he  said. 

Leaning  on  the  arm  of  Gaylor,  Mr.  Hallowell 
returned  from  the  cabinet  to  his  chair.  What 
he  had  seen  apparently  strengthened  his  faith 
and,  in  like  degree,  inspired  him  to  greater  en 
thusiasm. 

"Well,"  he  exclaimed,  "there  are  no  trap 
doors  or  false  bottoms  about  that!  If  they  can 
project  a  spirit  from  that  sentry  box,  it  will  be  a 
miracle.  For  whom  are  we  waiting?"  he  asked 
impatiently.  "Where  is  Winthrop?" 

Judge  Gaylor  explained  that  Winthrop  preferred 
to  wait  downstairs,  and  that  he  had  said  he  would 
remain  there  until  the  seance  was  finished. 

"Afraid  of  compromising  his  position,"  com 
mented  the  old  man.  "I'm  sorry.  I'd  like  to 
have  him  here."  He  motioned  Gaylor  to  bend 


Vera,  the  Medium 

nearer.  In  a  voice  that  trembled  with  eagerness 
and  excitement,  he  whispered :  "  Henry,  I  have  a 
feeling  that  we  are  going  to  witness  a  remarkable 
phenomenon/' 

Gaylor's  countenance  grew  preternaturally 
grave.  He  nodded  heavily. 

"I  have  the  same  feeling,  Stephen,"  he  re 
turned. 

Vance  raised  his  hand  to  command  silence. 

"Every  one,"  he  called,  "except  the  committee, 
who  are  to  bind  and  tie  the  medium,  will  take  the 
place  I  give  him,  and.  remain  in  it.  Mr.  Day  will 
please  acquaint  Miss  Vera  and  Mrs.  Vance  with 
the  fact  that  we  are  ready." 

Up  to  this  point  Vance  had  appeared  only  as  a 
stage  manager.  He  had  been  concerned  with  his 
groupings,  his  lights;  in  assigning  to  his  confeder 
ates  the  parts  they  were  to  play.  Now  that  the 
curtain  was  to  rise,  as  an  actor  puts  on  a  wig  and 
grease  paint,  Vance  assumed  a  certain  voice  and 
manner.  On  the  stage  the  critics  would  have 
called  him  a  convincing  actor.  He  made  his 
audience  believe  what  he  believed.  He  knew  the 
eloquence  of  a  pause,  the  value  of  a  surprised, 
unintelligible  exclamation.  One  moment  he  was 
as  professionally  solemn  as  a  "funeral  director"; 
the  next,  his  voice,  his  whole  frame,  would  shake 

146 


Vera,  the  Medium 

with  excitement,  in  an  outburst  of  fanatic  fervor. 
As  it  pleased  him  he  could  play  Hamlet,  tenderly 
shocked  at  the  sight  of  his  dead  father,  or  Mac 
beth,  retreating  in  horror  before  the  ghost  of 
Banquo.  For  the  moment  his  manner  was  that 
of  the  undertaker. 

"Now,    Mr.     Hallowell,"    he    said    hoarsely, 
"please  to  name  those  you  wish  to  serve  on  the 


committee." 


Mr.  Hallowell  waved  his  arm  to  include  every 
one  in  the  room. 

"Everybody  will  serve  on  the  committee/'  he 
declared.  "Everything  is  to  be  open  and  above- 
board.  The  whole  city  is  welcome  on  the  com 
mittee.  I  want  this  to  be  above  suspicion." 

"That  is  my  wish,  also,  sir,"  said  Vance  stiffly. 
"  But  a  committee  of  more  than  three  is  unwieldy. 
Suppose  you  name  two  gentlemen  and  I  one  ? 
Or,"  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  "you  can  name 
all  three." 

After  a  moment  of  consideration  Mr.  Hallowell 
pointed  at  Lee.  "I  choose  Mr. — that  young 
man,"  he  announced,  "and  Judge  Gaylor." 

"I  would  much  rather  not,  Stephen,"  Judge 
Gaylor  whispered. 

"I  know,  Henry,"  answered  the  other;  "but  I 
ask  it  of  you.  It  will  give  me  confidence."  He 


Vera,  the  Medium 

turned  to  Vance.  "You  select  some  one  "  he 
commanded. 

With  a  bow,  Vance  designated  the  tall  German. 

"Will  Professor  Strombergk  be  acceptable?" 
he  asked. 

Mr.  Hallowell  nodded. 

"Then,  the  three  gentlemen  chosen  will  please 
come  to  the  cabinet." 

Vance,  his  manner  now  that  of  a  master  of  cere 
monies,  assigned  to  each  person  the  seat  he  or  she 
was  to  occupy.  Miss  Coates  with  satisfaction 
noted  that  only  Mrs.  Vance  separated  Lee  from 
the  electric  switch. 

"I  must  ask  you,"  said  Vance,  "to  keep  the 
seats  I  have  assigned  to  you.  With  us  to-night 
are  both  favorable  and  unfavorable  influences. 
And  what  I  have  tried  to  do  in  placing  you,  is  to 
obtain  the  best  psychic  results."  He  moved  to  the 
door  and  looked  into  the  hall,  then  turned,  and 
with  uplifted  arm  silently  demanded  attention. 

"Miss  Vera,"  he  announced. 

Followed  closely,  like  respectful  courtiers,  by 
Mannie  and  Mrs.  Vance,  Vera  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  walked  a  few  feet  into  the  room,  and 
stood  motionless.  As  though  already  in  a  trance, 
she  moved  slowly,  without  volition,  like  a  som 
nambulist.  Her  head  was  held  high,  but  her 

148 


Vera,  the  Medium 

eyes  were  dull  and  unseeing.  Her  arms  hung 
limply.  She  wore  an  evening  gown  of  soft  black 
stuff,  that  clung  to  her  like  a  lace  shawl,  and  which 
left  her  throat  and  arms  bare.  In  spite  of  the 
clash  of  interests,  of  antagonism,  of  mutual  dis 
trust,  there  was  no  one  present  to  whom  the  sight 
of  the  young  girl  did  not  bring  an  uneasy  thrill. 
The  nature  of  the  thing  she  proposed  to  do, 
contrasted  with  the  loveliness  of  her  face,  which 
seemed  to  mock  at  the  possibility  of  deceit; 
something  in  her  rapt,  distant  gaze,  in  the 
dignity  of  her  uplifted  head,  in  her  air  of  com 
plete  detachment  from  her  surroundings,  caused 
even  the  most  sceptical  to  question  if  she  might 
not  possess  the  power  she  claimed,  to  feel  for  a 
moment  the  approach  of  the  supernatural. 

The  voices  of  the  committee,  consulting  together, 
dropped  suddenly  to  a  whisper;  the  others  were 
instantly  silent. 

In  his  arms  Mannie  carried  silken  scarfs,  cords, 
and  ropes.  In  each  hand  he  held  a  teacup.  One 
contained  flour,  the  other  shot.  Vance  took  these 
from  him,  and  Mannie  hurriedly  slipped  into  his 
chair  in  front  of  the  organ. 

"Gentlemen,"  explained  Vance,  "you  will  use 
these  ropes  and  scarfs  to  tie  the  medium.  Also, 
as  a  further  precaution  against  the  least  suspicion 

149 


Vera,  the  Medium 

of  fraud,  we  will  subject  her  to  the  most  severe  test 
known.  In  one  hand  she  will  hold  this  flour;  the 
other  will  be  filled  with  shot.  This  will  make  it 
impossible  for  her  to  tamper  with  the  ropes." 

He  gave  the  two  cups  to  Gaylor,  and  turned  to 
Vera. 

"Are  you  ready?"  he  asked.  After  a  pause, 
the  girl  slightly  inclined  her  head.  Lee,  with  one 
of  the  scarfs  in  his  hand,  approached  her  diffident 
ly.  He  looked  unhappily  at  the  slight,  girlish 
figure,  at  the  fair  white  arms.  In  his  embarrass 
ment  he  appealed  to  Vance. 

"How  would  you  suggest  ?"  he  asked. 

Vance,  apparently  shocked,  hastily  drew  away. 
"That  would  be  most  irregular,"  he  protested. 

Apologetically  Lee  turned  to  the  girl. 

"Would  you  mind  putting  your  arms  behind 
you?"  he  asked.  He  laced  the  scarf  around  her 
aims,  and  drew  it  tightly  to  her  wrists. 

"Tell  me  if  I  hurt  you,"  he  murmured;  but  the 
girl  made  no  answer.  To  what  was  going  for 
ward  she  appeared  as  unmindful  as  though  she 
were  an  artist's  manikin. 

"Will  you  take  these  now?"  asked  Gaylor; 
and  into  her  open  palms  he  poured  the  flour  and 
shot.  "And,  now,"  continued  Lee,  "will  you  go 
into  the  cabinet  ? "  As  she  seated  herself,  he  knelt 

150 


"Tell  me  if  I  hurt  you,"  he  murmured 


Vera,  the  Medium 

in  front  of  her  and  bound  her  ankles.  From  be 
hind  her  Strombergk  deftly  wound  the  ropes  about 
her  body  and  through  the  rungs  and  back  of  the 
chair. 

"Would  you  mind  seeing  if  you  can  withdraw 
your  arms?"  Lee  asked.  The  girl  raised  her 
shoulders,  struggled  to  free  her  hands,  and  tried 
to  rise.  But  the  efforts  were  futile. 

"Are  the  gentlemen  satisfied?"  demanded 
Vance. 

The  three  men,  who  had  shown  but  little  heart 
in  the  work,  and  who  were  now  red  and  em 
barrassed,  hastily  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  If  you  are  satisfied  the  ropes  are  securely  fas 
tened,"  Vance  continued,  "you  will  take  your 
seats."  Professor  Strombergk,  as  he  moved  to 
his  chair,  announced  in  devout,  solemn  tones: 
"Nothing  but  spirit  hands  can  move  those  ropes 


now." 


From  the  organ  rose  softly  the  prelude  to  a 
Moody  and  Sankey  hymn,  and,  in  keeping  with 
the  music,  the  voice  of  Vance  sank  to  a  low  tone. 

"We  will  now,"  he  said,  "establish  the  mag 
netic  chain.  Each  person  will  take  with  his  right 
hand  the  left  wrist  of  the  person  on  his  or  her 
right."  He  paused  while  this  order  was  being 
carried  into  effect. 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Before  I  turn  out  the  lights,"  he  continued, 
"  I  wish  to  say  a  last  word  to  any  sceptic  who  may 
be  present.  I  warn  him  that  any  attempt  to  lay 
violent  hands  upon  the  apparition,  or  spirit,  may 
cost  the  medium  her  life.  From  the  cabinet  the 
medium  projects  the  spirit  into  the  circle.  An 
attack  upon  the  spirit,  is  an  attack  upon  the  me 
dium.  There  are  three  or  four  well-authenticated 
cases  where  the  disembodied  spirit  was  cut  off 
from  the  cabinet,  and  the  medium  died." 

He  drew  the  velvet  curtains  across  the  cabinet, 
and  shut  Vera  from  view.  "Are  you  ready,  Mr. 
Hallowell?"  he  asked.  Mr.  Hallowell,  his  eyes 
staring,  his  lips  parted,  nodded  his  head.  The 
music  grew  louder.  Vance  switched  off  the  lights. 

For  some  minutes,  except  for  the  creaking  of 
the  pedals  of  the  organ  and  the  low  throb  of  the 
music,  there  was  no  sound.  Then,  from  his  posi 
tion  at  the  open  door,  the  voice  of  Vance  com 
manded  sternly:  "No  whispering,  please.  The 
medium  is  susceptible  to  the  least  sound."  There 
was  another  longer  pause,  until  in  hushed  ex 
pectant  tones  Vance  spoke  again.  "The  air  is 
very  heavily  charged  with  electricity  to-night," 
he  said.  "You,  Mrs.  Marsh,  should  feel  that?" 

"I  do,  Professor,"  murmured  the  medium;  "I 
do.  We  shall  have  some  wonderful  results!" 

152 


Vera,  the  Medium 

Vance  agreed  with  her  solemnly.  "I  feel  in 
fluences  all  about  me,"  he  murmured. 

There  came  suddenly  from  the  cabinet  three 
sharp  raps.  These  were  instantly  answered  by 
other  quick  rappings  upon  the  library  table. 
"They  are  beginning!"  chanted  the  voice  of 
Vance.  The  music  of  the  organ  ceased.  It  was 
at  once  followed  by  the  notes  of  a  guitar  that 
seemed  to  float  in  space,  the  strings  vibrating,  not 
as  though  touched  by  human  hands,  but  in  fitful, 
meaningless  chords  like  those  of  an  ^olian  harp. 

"That  is  Kiowa,  your  control,  Mrs.  Marsh," 
announced  Vance  eagerly.  "Do  you  desire  to 
speak  to  him?" 

"Not  to-night,"  Mrs.  Marsh  answered.  She 
raised  her  voice.  "Not  to-night,  Kiowa,"  she  re 
peated.  "Thank  you  for  coming.  Good-night." 

In  deep,  guttural  accents,  a  man's  voice  came 
from  the  ceiling.  "Good-night,"  it  called.  With 
a  final,  ringing  wail,  the  music  of  the  guitar  sud 
denly  ceased. 

Again  rose  the  swelling  low  notes  of  the  organ. 
Above  it  came  the  quick  pattering  of  footsteps. 

The  voice  of  Rainey,  filled  with  alarm,  cried, 
"Some  one  touched  me!" 

"Are  you  sure  your  hands  are  held  ?"  demanded 
Vance  reprovingly. 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Yes,"  panted  Rainey;  "both  of  them.  But 
something  put  its  hand  on  my  forehead.  It  was 
cold." 

In  an  excited  whisper,  a  voice  in  the  circle  cried, 
"Look,  look!"  and  before  the  eyes  of  all,  a  star 
rose  in  the  darkness.  For  a  moment  it  wavered 
over  the  cabinet  and  then  fluttered  swiftly  across 
the  room  and  remained  stationary  above  the  head 
of  the  German  Professor. 

'  There  is  your  star,  Professor,"  cried  Vance. 
"When  the  Professor  is  in  the  circle,"  he 
announced  proudly,  "that  star  always  ap 
pears." 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  startled  exclamation 
from  Lee. 

"Something  touched  my  face,"  explained  the 
young  man  apologetically,  "and  spoke  to  me." 

The  music  sank  to  a  murmur,  and  the  room 
became  alive  with  swift,  rushing  sounds  and  soft 
whisperings. 

The  voice  of  Mrs.  Marsh,  low  and  eager,  could 
be  heard  appealing  to  an  invisible  presence. 

"The  results  are  marvellous,"  chanted  Vance; 
"marvellous!  The  medium  is  showing  wonder 
ful  power.  If  any  one  desires  to  ask  a  question,  he 
should  do  so  now.  The  conditions  will  never  be 
better."  He  paused  expectantly.  "Mr.  Hallo- 


Vera,  the  Medium 

well,"  he  prompted,  "is  it  your  wish  to  communi 
cate  with  any  one  in  the  spirit-world  ? " 

There  was  a  long  pause,  and  then  the  voice  of 
Mr.  Hallowell,  harsh  and  shaken,  answered, 
"Yes." 

"With  whom?"    demanded  Vance. 

There  was  again  another  longer  pause,  and 
then,  above  the  confusion  of  soft  whisperings, 
the  voice  of  the  old  man  rose  in  sharp  staccato: 

"My  sister,  Catherine  Coates."  His  tone  har 
dened,  became  obdurate,  final.  "  But,  I  must  see 
her,  and  hear  her  speak!" 

Norfor  an  instant  did  Vance  hesitate.  Intense, 
sepulchral  tones,  he  demanded  of  the  darkness, 
"Is  the  spirit  of  Catherine  Coates  present?" 

The  whisperings  and  murmurs  ceased.  The 
silence  of  the  room  was  broken  sharply  by  three 
quick  raps.  "Yes,"  intoned  Vance;  "she  is 
present." 

The  voice  of  Hallowell  protested  fiercely.  "I 
won't  have  that!  I  want  to  see  her!" 

In  the  tone  of  an  incantation,  Vance  spoke 
again.  "Will  the  spirit  show  herself  to  her  broth 
er?"  The  raps  came  quickly,  firmly. 

"She  answers  she  will  appear  before  you." 

There  was  a  moment  that  seemed  to  stretch 
interminably,  and  then,  the  eyes  of  all,  straining  in 

I55 


Vera,  the  Medium 

the  darkness,  saw  against  the  black  velvet  cur 
tain  a  splash  of  white. 

As  it  moved  toward  them  it  took  shape,  and  by 
the  faint  light  that  came  through  the  curtains 
from  the  hall,  they  distinguished  the  bent  figure 
of  a  woman,  apparently  an  old  woman  with  a 
white  cap  and  white  hair,  and  across  her  shoulders 
a  white  kerchief. 

Above  the  sobbing  of  the  organ,  the  voice  of 
Mr.  Hallowell  rang  out  in  a  sharp  exclamation 
of  terror.  "Who  is  that!"  he  demanded.  He 
spoke  as  though  he  dreaded  the  answer.  He 
threw  himself  forward  in  his  chair,  peering  into 
the  darkness. 

"Is  that  you,  Kate?"  he  whispered.  His  voice 
was  both  incredulous  and  pleading.  The  answer 
came  in  feeble,  trembling  tones.  "Yes." 

The  voice  of  Hallowell  shook  with  eagerness. 

"Do  you  know  me,  your  brother,  Stephen  ?" 

"Yes." 

With  a  cry  the  old  man  fell  back,  groping 
blindly.  He  found  Gaylor's  arm  and  clutched  it 
with  both  hands. 

"My  God!  It's  Kate!"  he  gasped.  "I  tell 
you,  Henry,  it  is  Kate!" 

The  voice  of  Vance,  deep  and  hollow  like  a 
bell,  sounded  a  note  of  warning.  "  Speak  quickly," 

156 


Vera,  the  Medium 

he  commanded.  "Her  time  on  earth  is  brief." 
Mr.  Hallowell's  hold  upon  the  arm  of  his  friend 
relaxed.  Fearfully  and  slowly,  he  bent  forward. 

"Kate!"  he  pleaded;  "I  must  ask  you  a  ques 
tion.  No  one  else  can  tell  me."  As  though  gath 
ering  courage,  he  paused,  and,  with  a  frightened 
sigh,  again  began.  "I  am  an  old  man,"  he  mur 
mured;  "a  sick  man.  I  will  be  joining  you  very 
soon.  What  am  I  to  do  with  my  money  ?  I  have 
made  great  plans  to  give  it  to  the  poor.  Or,  must 
I  give  it,  as  I  have  given  it  in  my  will,  to  Helen  ? 
Perhaps  I  did  not  act  fairly  to  you  and  Helen. 
You  know  what  I  mean.  She  would  be  rich,  but 
then  the  poor  would  be  that  much  the  poorer." 
The  confidence  of  the  speaker  was  increasing;  as 
though  to  a  living  being,  he  argued  and  pleaded. 
"And  I  want  to  do  some  good  before  I  go.  What 
shall  I  do  ?  Tell  me." 

There  was  a  pause  that  lasted  so  long  that  those 
who  had  held  their  breath  to  listen,  again  breathed 
deeply.  When  the  answer  came,  it  was  strangely 
deprecatory,  uncertain,  unassured. 

"You,"  stammered  the  voice,  "you  must  have 
courage  to  do  what  you  know  to  be  just!" 

For  a  brief  moment,  as  though  surprised,  Mr. 
Hallowell  apparently  considered  this;  and  then 
gave  an  exclamation  of  disappointment  and  distress. 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"But  I  don't  know,"  he  protested;  "that  is  why 
I  called  on  you.  I  want  to  go  into  the  next  world, 
Kate,"  he  pleaded,  "with  clean  hands!" 

This  time  the  answer  came  more  firmly.  But 
it  was  still  without  feeling,  without  conviction. 

"You  cannot  bribe  your  way  into  the  next 
world,"  intoned  the  voice.  "If  you  pity  the 
poor,  you  must  help  the  poor,  not  that  you  may 
cheat  your  way  into  heaven,  but  that  they  may 
suffer  less.  Search  your  conscience.  Have  the 
courage  of  your  conscience." 

"I  don't  want  to  consult  my  conscience,"  cried 
the  old  man.  "I  want  you  to  tell  me."  He 
paused,  hesitating.  Eager  to  press  his  question, 
his  awe  of  the  apparition  still  restrained  him. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Kate?"  he  begged. 
"Am  I  to  give  the  money  where  it  will  do  the  most 
good — to  the  Hallowell  Institute,  or  am  I  to  give 
it  to  Helen  ?  Which  am  I  to  do  ? " 

There  was  another  long  silence,  and  then  the 
voice  stammered:  "If — if  you  have  wronged  me, 
or  my  daughter,  or  the  poor,  you  must  make 


restitution." 


The  hand  of  the  old  man  was  heard  to  fall 
heavily  upon  the  arm  of  his  chair.  His  voice  rose 
unhappily. 

"That  is  no  answer,  Kate!"  he  cried.  "Did 
158 


Vera,  the  Medium 

you  come  from  the  dead  to  preach  to  me?  Tell 
me — what  am  I  to  do — leave  my  money  to  Helen, 
or  to  the  Institute  ? " 

The  cry  of  the  old  man  vibrated  in  the  air.  No 
voice  rose  to  answer.  "Kate!"  he  entreated. 
Still  there  was  silence.  "Speak  to  me!"  he  com 
manded.  The  silence  became  eloquent  with  mo 
mentous  possibilities.  So  long  did  it  endure,  that 
the  pain  of  the  suspense  was  actual.  The  voice 
of  Rainey,  choked  and  hoarse  with  fear,  broke  it 
with  an  exclamation  that  held  the  sound  of  an 
oath.  He  muttered  thickly,  "What  in  the  name 
of— 

He  was  hushed  by  a  swift  chorus  of  hisses. 
The  voice  of  Hallowell  was  again  uplifted. 

"Why  won't  she  answer  me?"  he  begged 
hysterically  of  Vance.  "Can't  you — can't  the 
medium  make  her  speak?" 

During  the  last  few  moments  the  music  from 
the  organ  had  come  brokenly.  The  hands  upon 
the  keys  moved  unsteadily,  drunkenly.  Now 
they  halted  altogether  and  in  the  middle  of  a 
chord  the  music  sank  and  died.  Upon  the  now 
absolute  silence  the  voice  of  Vance,  when  he 
spoke,  sounded  strangely  unfamiliar.  It  had  lost 
the  priest-like  intonation.  Its  confidence  had  de 
parted.  It  showed  bewilderment  and  alarm. 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"I — I  don't  understand,"  stammered  the  show 
man.  "Ask  her  again.  Put  your  question  differ 
ently." 

Carefully,  slowly,  giving  each  word  its  value, 
Mr.  Hallowell  raised  his  voice  in  entreaty. 

"Kate,"  he  cried,  "I  have  made  a  new  will, 
leaving  the  money  to  the  poor.  The  old  will  gives 
it  to  Helen.  Shall  I  sign  the  new  will  or  not  ? 
Shall  I  give  the  money  to  Helen,  or  the  Institute  ? 
Answer  me!  Yes,  or  no." 

Before  the  eyes  of  all,  the  apparition,  as  though 
retreating  to  the  cabinet,  swayed  backward,  then 
staggered  forward.  There  was  a  sob,  human, 
heart-broken;  a  cry,  thrilling  with  distress;  a 
tumult  of  weeping,  fierce  and  uncontrollable. 

They  saw  the  figure  tear  away  the  white  ker 
chief  and  cap,  and  trample  them  upon  the  floor. 
They  saw  the  figure  hold  itself  erect.  From  it, 
the  voice  of  Vera  cried  aloud,  in  despair: 

"I  can't!  I  can't!"  she  sobbed.  "It's  a  lie! 
I  am  not  your  sister!  Turn  on  the  lights,"  the 
girl  cried.  "Turn  on  the  lights!'* 

There  was  a  crash  of  upturned  chairs,  the  sound 
of  men  struggling,  and  the  room  was  swept  with 
light.  In  the  doorway  Winthrop  was  holding 
apart  Vance  and  the  reporter. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  Vera,  her  head 
160 


Vera,  the  Medium 

bent  in  shame,  her  body  shaken  and  trembling, 
her  hair  streaming  to  her  waist. 

As  though  to  punish  herself,  by  putting  a  climax 
to  her  humiliation,  she  held  out  her  arms  to  Helen 
Coates.  "You  see,"  she  cried;  "I  am  a  cheat. 
I  am  a  fraud!"  She  sank  suddenly  to  her  knees 
in  front  of  Mr.  Hallowell.  "Forgive  me,"  she 
sobbed;  "forgive  me!" 

With  a  cry  of  angry  protest,  Winthrop  ran  to 
her,  and  lifted  her  to  her  feet.  His  eyes  were 
filled  with  pity.  But  in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Hallowell 
there  was  no  promise  of  pardon.  With  sudden 
strength  he  struggled  to  his  feet  and  stood  swaying, 
challenging  those  before  him.  His  face  was  white 
with  anger,  his  jaw  closed  against  mercy. 

"You've  lied  to  me!"  he  cried.  "You've  tried 
to  rob  me!"  He  swept  the  room  with  his  eyes. 
With  a  flash  of  intuition,  he  saw  the  trap  they  had 
laid  for  him.  "  All  of  you ! "  he  screamed.  "  It's 
a  plot!"  He  shook  his  fist  at  the  weeping  girl. 
"And  you!"  he  shouted  hysterically;  "the  law 
shall  punish  you!" 

Winthrop  drew  the  girl  to  him  and  put  his  arm 
about  her. 

"I'll  do  the  punishing  here,"  he  said. 

With  a  glad,  welcoming  cry,  the  old  man  turned 
to  him  appealingly,  wildly. 

161 


Vera,  the  Medium 

"Yes,  you!"  he  shouted.  "You  punish  them! 
She  plotted  to  get  my  money." 

The  girl  at  Winthrop's  side  shivered,  and 
shrank  from  him.  He  drew  her  back  roughly 
and  held  her  close.  The  sobs  that  shook  her  tore 
at  his  heart;  the  touch  of  the  sinking,  trembling 
body  in  his  arms  rilled  him  with  fierce,  jubilant 
thoughts  of  keeping  the  girl  there  always,  of  giving 
battle  for  her,  of  sheltering  her  against  the  world. 
In  what  she  had  done  he  saw  only  a  sacrifice.  In 
her  he  beheld  only  a  penitent,  who  was  self- 
accused  and  self-convicted. 

He  heard  the  voice  of  the  old  man  screaming 
vindictively:  "She  plotted  to  get  my  money!" 

Winthrop  turned  upon  him  savagely. 

"How  did  you  plot  to  get  it?"  he  retorted 
fiercely.  "You  know,  and  I  know.  I  know  how 
your  lawyer,  your  doctor,  your  servant  plotted  to 
get  it!"  His  voice  rose  and  rang  with  indignation. 
"You  all  plotted,  and  you  all  schemed — and  to 
what  end — what  was  the  result  ?" — he  held  before 
them  the  fainting  figure  of  the  girl — "That  one 
poor  child  could  prove  she  was  honest!" 

With  his  arms  still  about  her,  and  her  hands 
clinging  to  him,  he  moved  with  her  quickly  to  the 
door.  When  they  had  reached  the  silence  of  the 
hall,  he  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  looked  into  her 

162 


Vera,  the  Medium 

eyes.  "Now,"  he  commanded,  "you  shall  come 
to  my  sisters!" 

The  waiting  car  carried  them  swiftly  up  the 
avenue.  Their  way  lay  through  the  park,  and 
the  warm,  mid-summer  air  was  heavy  with  the 
odor  of  plants  and  shrubs.  Above  them  the 
trees  drooped  deep  with  leaves.  Vera,  crouched 
in  a  corner,  had  not  spoken.  Her  eyes  were  hidden 
in  her  hands.  But  when  they  had  entered  the 
silent  reaches  of  the  park  she  lowered  them  and 
the  face  she  lifted  to  Winthrop  was  pale  and  wet 
with  tears.  The  man  thought  never  before  had 
he  seen  it  more  lovely  or  more  lovable.  Vera 
shook  her  head  dumbly  and  looked  up  at  him 
with  a  troubled  smile. 

"I  told  you,"  she  murmured  remorsefully, 
"you'd  be  sorry." 

"We  don't  know  that  yet,"  said  Winthrop 
gently;  "we'll  have  all  the  rest  of  our  lives  to  find 
that  out." 

Startled,  the  girl  drew  back.  In  her  face  was 
wonder,  amazement,  a  dawning  happiness. 

Without  speaking,  Winthrop  looked  at  her,  en- 
treatingly,  pitifully,  beseeching  her  with  his  eyes. 

Slowly  the  girl  bent  forward  and,  as  he  threw 
out  his  arms,  with  a  little  sigh  of  rest  and  content 
she  crept  into  them  and  pressed  her  face  to  his. 


'MISS   CIVILIZATION* 

A  COMEDY  IN   ONE  ACT 


***-MKB  CmuftraoM-  is  landed  on  m  star  by  the  bte  JAMS  HAKTKT 
All  piofca6ionAl  rights  in  dus  pfay  belong  to  RKHAKD  HAWOTBR  DATE. 
Amateurs  who  desire  to  produce  -  Miss  CmurAnoct"  may  do  so,  ptmid^  they 
apply  for  permission  to  the  editor  of  C<Bier's  WrrUy,  in  whkh  pobikatkn  this  play 


PEOPLE   IN  THE   PLAY 

ALICE  GARDNER,  daughter  of  James  K.  Gardner,  Presi 
dent  of  the  L.  I.  &  W.  Railroad 

UNCLE"  JOSEPH  HATCH,  alias  "Gentleman  Joe" 
BRICK"  MEAKIN,  alias  "Reddy,  the  Kid" 
HARRY  HAYES,  alias  "Grand  Stand"  Harry 
CAPTAIN  LUCAS,  Chief  of  Police 

POLICEMEN,  BRAKEMEN,  ENGINEERS 


166 


"MISS  CIVILIZATION" 

SCENE. — The  dining-room  in  the  country  house  of  James 
K.  Gardner  on  Long  Island.  In  the  back  wall  is 
a  double  doorway  opening  into  a  hall.  A  curtain 
divided  in  the  middle  hangs  across  the  entrance. 
On  the  wall  on  either  side  of  the  doorway  are  two 
electric  lights,  and  to  the  left  is  a  telephone.  Fur 
ther  to  the  left  is  a  sideboard.  On  it  are  set  silver 
salvers,  candlesticks,  and  Christmas  presents  of 
silver.  They  still  are  in  the  red  flannel  bags  in 
which  they  arrived.  In  the  left  wall  is  a  recessed 
window  hung  with  curtains.  Against  the  right 
wall  is  a  buffet  on  which  is  set  a  tea-caddy,  toast- 
rack,  and  tea-kettle.  Below  the  buffet  a  door  opens 
into  the  butler's  pantry.  A  dinner-table  stands  well 
down  the  stage  with  a  chair  at  each  end  and  on 
either  side.  Two  chairs  are  set  against  the  back 
wall  to  the  right  of  the  door.  The  walls  and  win 
dows  are  decorated  with  holly  and  mistletoe  and 
Christmas  wreaths  tied  with  bows  of  scarlet  rib 
bon.  When  the  window  is  opened  there  is  a  view  of 
falling  snow.  At  first  the  room  is  in  complete  dark 
ness. 

The  time  is  the  day  after  Christmas,  near  midnight. 

167 


"Miss  Civilization" 

After  the  curtain  rises  one  hears  the  noise  of  a  file  scrap 
ing  on  iron.  It  comes  apparently  from  outside  the 
house  at  a  point  distant  from  the  dining-room. 
The  filing  is  repeated  cautiously,  with  a  wait  between 
each  stroke,  as  though  the  person  using  the  file 
had  paused  to  listen. 

ALICE  GARDNER  enters  at  centre,  carrying  a  lighted 
candle  in  a  silver  candlestick.  She  wears  a  dressing- 
gown,  with  swan's-down  around  her  throat  and  at 
the  edges  of  her  sleeves.  Her  feet  are  in  bed-room 
slippers  topped  with  fur.  Her  hair  hangs  down  in 
a  braid.  After  listening  intently  to  the  sound  of 
the  file,  she  places  candle  on  sideboard  and  goes 
to  telephone.  She  speaks  in  a  whisper. 

ALICE 

Hello,  Central.  Hello,  Central.  (Impatiently.) 
Wake  up !  Wake  up !  Is  that  you,  Central  ? 
Give  me  the  station  agent  at  Bedford  Junction 
— quick.  What?  I  cant  speak  louder.  Well, 
you  must  hear  me.  Give  me  the  station  agent  at 
Bedford  Junction.  No,  there's  always  a  man 
there  all  night.  Hurry,  please,  hurry.  (There 
Is  a  pause,  during  which  the  sound  of  the  file  grows 
louder.  ALICE  listens  apprehensively.)  Hello, 
are  you  the  station  agent?  Good!  Listen!  I 
am  Miss  Gardner,  James  K.  Gardner's  daughter. 

168 


"Miss  Civilization" 

Yes,  James  K.  Gardner,  the  president  of  the  road. 
This  is  his  house.  My  mother  and  I  are  here 
alone.  There  are  three  men  trying  to  break  in. 
Yes,  burglars,  of  course.  My  mother  is  very  ill. 
If  they  frighten  her  the  shock  might — might  be  very 
serious.  Wake  up  the  crew,  and  send  the  wreck 
ing  train  here — at  once.  Send — the — crew — of— 
the — wrecking  train  here — quick.  What  ?  Then 
fire  up  an  engine  and  get  it  here  as  fast  as  you  can. 

VOICE  (calling  from  second  story) 
Alice! 

ALICE  (at  telephone) 

Yes,   you    have.      The    up-track's    clear   until 
"52"  comes  along.     That's  not  until 

VOICE  (louder) 
Alice! 

ALICE  (with  dismay) 

Mother!      (At    telephoned)      Hello,     hold     the 
wire.     Don't  go  away!     (Runs  to  curtains,  parts 

169 


"Miss  Civilization" 

them,  and  looks  up  as  though  speaking  to  some  one 
at  top  of  stairs.)  Mother,  why  arent  you  in 
bed? 

VOICE 
Is  anything  wrong,  Alice  ? 

ALICE 

No,  dear,  no.     I  just  came  down  to — get  a 
book  I  forgot.     Please  go  back,  dearest. 

VOICE 

I  heard  you  moving  about,  I  thought  you 
might  be  ill. 

ALICE 

No,  dearest,  but  you  II  be  very  ill  if  you  don't 
keep  in  bed.  Please,  mother — at  once.  It's  all 
right,  it's  all  right. 

VOICE 

Yes,  dear.     Good-night. 
170 


"Miss  Civilization" 
ALICE 

Good-night,  mother.  (Returns  quickly  to 
telephone^)  Hello!  Hello!  Stop  the  engine  at 
the  foot  of  our  lawn.  Yes,  yes,  at  the  foot  of  our 
lawn.  And  when  you  have  the  house  surrounded, 
when  the  men  are  all  around  the  house,  blow 
three  whistles  so  I'll  know  you're  here.  What? 
Oh,  that's  all  right.  The  burglars  will  be  here. 
/'//  see  to  that.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  get  here. 
If  you  don't,  you'll  lose  your  job!  I  say,  if  you 
don't,  you'll  lose  your  job,  or  I'm  not  the  daughter 
of  the  president  of  this  road.  Now,  you  jump! 
And — wait — hello —  (Turns  from  telephone.)  He's 
jumped. 


(The  file  is  now  drawn  harshly  across  the  bolt  of  the 
window  of  the  dining-room,  and  a  piece  of  wood 
snaps.  With  an  exclamation,  ALICE  blows  out  the 
candle  and  exits.  The  shutters  of  the  windows  are 
opened,  admitting  the  faint  glow  of  moonlight. 
The  window  is  raised  and  the  ray  of  a  dark-lantern 
is  swept  about  the  room.  HATCH  appears  at  win 
dow  and  puts  one  leg  inside.  He  is  an  elderly  man 
wearing  a  mask  which  hides  the  upper  half  of 
his  face,  a  heavy  overcoat,  and  a  derby  hat.  But 
for  the  mask  he  might  be  mistaken  for  a  respecta 
ble  man  of  business.  A  pane  of  glass  falls  from  the 
window  and  breaks  on  the  sill.) 
171 


"Miss  Civilization" 

HATCH  (speaking  over  his  shoulder) 

Hush!  Be  careful,  can't  you  ?  (He  enters.  He 
is  followed  by  "GRAND  STAND"  HARRY,  a 
younger  man  of  sporting  appearance.  He  also 
wears  a  mask,  and  the  brim  of  his  gray  Alpine 
hat  is  pulled  over  his  eyes.  Around  his  throat  he 
wears  a  heavy  silk  muffler.)  It's  all  right.  Come 
on.  Hurry  up,  and  close  those  shutters. 

HARRY  (to  REDDY  outside) 

Give  me  the  bag,  Reddy.  (REDDY  appears  at 
window.  He  is  dressed  like  a  Bowery  tough.  His 
face  is  blackened  with  burnt  cork.  His  hair  is  of 
a  brilliant  red.  He  wears  an  engineer9 s  silk  cap 
with  visor.  To  HARRY  he  passes  a  half-filled  can 
vas  bag.  On  his  shoulder  he  carries  another.  On 
entering  he  slips  and  falls  forward  on  the  floor) 

HATCH 
Confound  you! 

HARRY 

Hush,  you  fool. 

172 


"Miss  Civilization'' 

HATCH 
Has  he  broken  anything  ? 

REDDY  (on  floor,  rubbing  his  head) 
I've  broke  my  head. 

HATCH 
That's  no  loss.     Has  he  smashed  that  silver  ? 

HARRY  (feeling  in  bag) 

It  feels  all  right.  (HATCH  cautiously  parts 
curtains  at  centre  and  exits  into  hall.) 

REDDY  (lifts  bag) 

We  got  enough  stuff  in  this  bag  already  with 
out  wasting  time  on  another  house. 

HARRY 

Wasting  time!  Time's  money  in  this  house. 
Look  at  this  silver.  That's  the  beauty  of  work 
ing  the  night  after  Christmas;  everybody's  pres 
ents  is  lying  about  loose,  and  everybody's  too 


Ink  M  ihm 


^numpt 

*  ***^    V^^Wr^ 


Well,  I  can't  make  a  meal  out  of  silver  ice 
pitcher*,  can  I  ?  I've  been  through  three  refrig 
erators  to-night,  and  nothing  in  any  of  rem  but 
bottle*  of  m//*/ 


HARRY 
Get  up,  get  up,  get  to  work. 

REDDY 

The  folki  in  this  town  are  the  stingiest  I  ever 
•ee.  /  won't  visit  'em  again,  no  matter  how  often 
they  ask  me.  (Rising  and  crossing  to  buffet.}  I 
wonder  if  these  folks  is  vegetarians,  too.  (HATCH 
enters.) 

174 


"Miss  Civilization" 

HATCH 

It  seems  all  right.  There's  no  light,  and  every 
body's  quiet.  (To  HARRY.)  You  work  the  bed 
rooms.  I'll  clear  away  those  things.  Don't  be 
rough,  now. 

HARRY 

I  know  my  business.  Give  me  the  light. 
(Takes  lantern  and  exits  centre.) 

HATCH 

Hist,  Reddy.  Reddy,  leave  that  alone.  That's 
not  safe.  (Removes  silver  from  sideboard  to  bag.) 

REDDY 

I  know  it  ain't,  governor.  I'm  lookin'  for 
somethin'  to  eat.  (He  kneels  in  front  of  buffet, 
and  opens  door) 

HATCH 

No,  you're  not!  You're  not  here  to  eat.  Come 
and  give  me  a  hand  with  this  stuff. 


"Miss  Civilization" 
REDDY 

Gee!    I've  found  a  bottle  of  whiskey.     (Takes 
bottle  from  buffet  and  begins  to  pull  at  the  cork) 

HATCH 
Well,  you  put  it  right  back  where  you  found  it. 

REDDY 
I  know  a  better  place  than  that  to  put  it. 

HATCH 

How  many  times  have  I  told  you  I'll  not  let 
you  drink  in  business  hours  ? 

REDDY 

Oh,   just   once,    governor;     it's    a   cruel,    cold 
night.     (Coughs)     I  need  it  for  medicine. 

HATCH 
No,  I  tell  you! 

REDDY 

Just  one  dose.     Here's  to  you.     (Drinks.)    Oh, 
Lord!     (He  sputters  and  coughs  violently) 


"Miss  Civilization" 

HATCH  (starts  toward  htm) 
Hush!     Stop  that,  you  fool. 

REDDY 

Oh,  I'm  poisoned!  That's  benzine,  governor. 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  Benzine!  It's 
burned  me  throat  out 

HATCH 

I  wish  it  had  burned  your  tongue  out!  Can't 
you  keep  still  ? 

REDDY 

Oh,  Lord!  Oh,  Lord!  Think  of  a  man  puttin' 
benzine  in  a  whiskey  bottle!  That's  dishonest, 
that  is.  Using  a  revenue  stamp  twice  is  defraudin' 
the  Government.  I  could  have  him  arrested  for 
that.  (Pause.)  If  I  wanted  to.  (Pause.)  But 
I  don't  want  to. 

HATCH 

Oh,  quit  that — and  come  here.  Get  out  the 
window,  and  I'll  hand  the  bag  to  you.  Put  it 
under  the  seat  of  the  wagon,  and  cover  it  up  with 

177 


"Miss  Civilization" 

the  lap  robe.  (REDDY  steps  to  centre  door  and, 
parting  the  curtains,  leans  into  the  hall  beyond, 
listening) 

REDDY 

Go  slow.  I  ain't  to  leave  here  till  Harry  is  safe 
on  the  ground  floor  again. 

HATCH 

Don't  you  worry  about  Harry.  He  won't  get 
into  trouble. 

REDDY 

Sure  he  won't.  It's  me  and  you  he'll  get  into 
trouble.  You  hadn't  ought  to  send  him  to  do 
second-story  work. 

HATCH  (contemptuously) 

No? 

REDDY 

No;  he's  too  tender-hearted.  A  second-story 
worker  ought  to  use  his  gun. 


"Miss  Civilization" 
HATCH 

Oh,  you!  You'll  fire  your  gun  too  often  some 
day. 

REDDY 

No,  I  won't.  I  did  once,  but  I  didn't  do  it 
again  for  six  years.  But  Harry — ah,  he's  too 
tender-hearted.  If  Harry  was  a  chicken  thief, 
before  he'd  wring  a  chicken's  neck  he'd  give  it 
laughing-gas.  Why,  you  remember  the  lady 
that  woke  up  and  begged  him  to  give  her  back 
a  gold  watch  because  it  belonged  to  her  little  girl 
who  was  dead.  Well — it  turned  out  the  little 
girl  wasn't  dead.  It  turned  out  the  little  girl 
was  a  big  boy,  alive  and  kicking — especially  kick 
ing.  He  kicked  me  into  a  rose-bush. 

HATCH 

That'll  do.  Harry's  learning  his  trade.  He'll 
pick  it  up  in  time. 

REDDY 

About  time  he  picked  up  something.  Remem 
ber  the  Gainesville  Bank;  where  he  went  away 

179 


"Miss  Civilization" 

leaving  ten  thousand  dollars  in  the  back  of  the 
safe.     Why  didn't  he  pick  that  up  ? 

HATCH 

Because  it  wasn't  there.  Bank  directors  al 
ways  say  that — to  make  us  feel  bad.  Hush! 
(HARRY  enters,  carrying  his  silk  muffler,  which 
now  is  wrapped  about  a  collection  of  jewels  and 
watches) 

HATCH 
That's  quick  work.     What  did  you  get  ? 

HARRY 

Some  neck  strings,  and  rings,  and  two 
watches.  (He  spreads  the  muffler  on  the  table. 
The  three  men  examine  the  jewelry) 

HATCH 
That  looks  good.     Who's  up  there  ? 

HARRY 

Only  an  old  lady  and  a  young  girl  in  the  room 
over  this.  And  she's  a  beauty,  too.  (Sentiment- 

180 


"Miss  Civilization" 

ally.)     Sleeping  there  just  as  sweet  and  peace- 
ful 

REDDY 

Ah,  why  don't  you  give  her  back  her  watch  ? 
Maybe  she's  another  dead  daughter. 

HATCH 

That's  all  right,  Harry.  That's  good  stuff. 
Pick  up  that  bag,  Reddy.  We  can  go  now. 
(HARRY  places  muffler  and  jewels  in  an  inside 
coat  pocket.  REDDY  takes  up  the  dark-lantern.) 

REDDY 
Go  ?    Not  till  I've  got  something  to  eat. 

HATCH 

No,  you  don't.    You  can  wait  till  later  for 
something  to  eat. 

REDDY 

Yes,  I  can  wait  till  later  for  something  to  eat, 
but  I  can  wait  better  if  I  eat  now.  (Exit  into 
pantry) 

181 


"Miss  Civilization" 
HATCH 

Confound  him.  If  I  knew  the  roads  around 
here  as  well  as  he  does,  I'd  drive  off  and  leave 
him.  That  appetite  of  his  will  send  us  to  jail 
some  day. 

HARRY 

Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  governor,  a  little  supper 
wouldn't  hurt  my  feelings.  (Goes  to  buffet.)  I 
wonder  where  old  man  Gardner  keeps  his  Ha- 
vanas  ?  I'd  like  a  Christmas  present  of  a  box  of 
cigars.  Are  there  any  over  here  ? 

HATCH 

I  didn't  look.  I  gave  up  robbing  tills  when  I  was 
quite  a  boy.  (Carries  bag  toward  window  and 
looks  out.) 

HARRY  (takes  box  of  cigars  from  buffet) 

Ah,  here  they  are.  (With  disgust.)  Domes 
tics!  What  do  you  think  of  that?  Made  in 
Vermont.  The  "Admiral  Dewey"  cigar.  Gee! 
What  was  the  use  of  Dewey's  taking  Manila, 
if  I've  got  to  smoke  Vermont  cigars  ?  (REDDY 
enters,  carrying  tray  with  fcod  and  a  bottle.) 

182 


"Miss  Civilization" 

REDDY 

Say,  fellers,  look  at  this  layout.  These  is  real 
people  in  this  house.  I  found  cold  birds,  and 
ham,  and  all  kinds  of  pie,  and  real  wine.  (Places 
tray  on  right  end  of  table.)  Sit  down,  and  make 
yourselves  perfectly  at  home. 

HARRY 

Well,  well,  that  does  look  good.  (Places  box 
of  cigars  at  upper  end  of  table,  and  seats  himself.) 
Better  have  a  bite,  governor. 

HATCH 

No,  I  tell  you.  (He  sits  angrily  in  chair  at 
left  end  of  table,  with  his  face  turned  toward  the 
curtains) 

REDDY 

Oh,  come  on.  It  don't  cost  you  nothing. 
(The  light  from  the  "candle  is  seen  approaching  the 
curtains) 

HATCH 

Hush!     Look    there!     (He    rises,    lifting    his 
above  his  head,   and  advances  on  tiptoe  to 

183 


"Miss  Civilization" 

right  of  curtains,  where  he  stands  with  the  chair 
raised  as  though  to  strike.  HARRY  points  re 
volver  at  curtains.  REDDY  shifts  the  lantern  to 
his  left  hand  and,  standing  close  to  HARRY,  also 
points  a  revolver.  ALICE  appears  between  cur 
tains.  She  is  dressed  as  before,  and  in  her  left  hand 
carries  the  candle,  while  the  forefinger  of  her 
right  hand  is  held  warningly  to  her  lips.  For 
an  instant  she  pauses,  in  the  ring  of  light  from  the 
lantern) 

ALICE  (whispering) 

Hush!     Don't  make  a  noise.     Don't  make  a 
noise,  please.     (There  is  a  long  pause.) 

REDDY 
Well,  I'll  be  hung! 

ALICE  (to  REDDY) 
Please  don't  make  a  noise. 

HATCH  (in  a  threatening  whisper) 

Don't  you  make  a  noise. 
184 


"Miss  Civilization" 
ALICE 

I  don't  mean  to.  My  mother  is  asleep  up 
stairs  and  she  is  very  ill.  And  I  don't  want  to 
wake  her — and  I  don't  want  you  to  wake  her, 
either. 

REDDY 
Well,  I'll  be  hung! 

HATCH  (angrily) 
Who  else  is  in  this  house  ? 

ALICE 

No  one  but  mother  and  the  maid-servants,  and 
they're  asleep.  You  woke  me,  and  I  hoped 
you'd  go  without  disturbing  mother.  But  when 
you  started  in  making  a  night  of  it,  I  decided 
I'd  better  come  down  and  ask  you  to  be  as  quiet 
as  possible.  My  mother  is  not  at  all  well.  (Takes 
cigar  box  off  tabled)  Excuse  me;  you've  got  the 
wrong  cigars.  Those  are  the  cigars  father  keeps 
for  his  friends.  Those  he  smokes  he  hides  over 
here.  (Places  box  on  buffet  and  takes  out  a  larger 
box,  with  partitions  for  cigars,  matches,  and 
cigarettes.  As  she  moves  about,  REDDY 

185 


"Miss  Civilization " 

her  well  in  the  light  of  the  lantern)  Try  those. 
I'm  afraid  you've  a  very  poor  supper.  When 
father  is  away,  we  have  such  a  small  family.  I 
can't  see  what  you've—  Would  you  mind  taking 
that  light  out  of  my  eyes,  and  pointing  it  at  that 
tray  ? 

HATCH  (sharply) 
Don't  you  do  it.     Keep  the  gun  on  her. 

ALICE 

Oh,  I  don't  mind  his  pointing  the  gun  at  me, 
so  long  as  he  does  not  point  that  light  at  me.  It's 
most — embarrassing.  (Sternly)  Turn  it  down 
there,  please.  (REDDY  lets  light  fall  on  tray) 
Why,  that's  cooking  sherry  you've  got.  You  can't 
drink  that !  Let  me  get  you  some  whiskey. 

REDDY  (covering  her  with  lantern) 

No,  you  don't.  That's  not  whiskey.  It's 
benzine. 

ALICE 

You  don't  mean  to  say  that  that  benzine  bot 
tle  is  there  still?  I  told  Jane  to  take  it  away. 

186 


"Miss  Civilization " 

REDDY  (dryly) 
Well,  Jane  didn't  do  it. 

ALICE 

Now,  isn't  that  just  like  Jane  ?  I  told  her  it 
might  set  fire  to  the  house  and  burn  us  alive. 

REDDY 
It  nearly  burned  me  alive. 

ALICE 

I'm  so  sorry.  (Takes  from  buffet  a  tray  hold 
ing  whiskey  bottle,  siphon,  and  three  glasses) 
Here,  this  is  what  you  want.  But,  perhaps,  you 
don't  like  Scotch. 

HATCH 

Don't  you  touch  that,  Reddy.  (Returns  to 
chair  at  left  of  table.) 

REDDY 

Why  not  ? 

187 


"Miss  Civilization" 

ALICE  (pours  whiskey  into  a  glass) 

Yes;  why  not  ?  It's  not  poison.  There's 
nothing  wrong  with  this  bottle.  If  you're  afraid, 
I'll  prove  it  to  you.  Just  to  show  you  there's  not 
a  trace  of  hard  feelings.  (Drinks  and  coughs  vio 
lently?) 

REDDY  (sympathetically) 
She's  got  the  benzine  bottle,  too. 

ALICE 

No.  I'm  not  quite  used  to  that.  (To  HARRY.) 
Excuse  me,  but  aren't  you  getting  tired  holding 
that  big  pistol  ?  Don't  you  think  you  might 
put  it  down  now,  and  help  me  serve  this  supper  ? 
(HARRY  does  not  move.)  No  ?  Well,  then,  let 
the  colored  gentleman  help  me.  (HARRY  and 
REDDY  wheel  sharply,  each  pointing  his  revolver.) 

REDDY 
Colored  man!    Where? 

HARRY 

Colored  man!  It's  a  trap!  (Seeing  no  one9 
they  turn.) 

188 


"Miss  Civilization" 

ALICE  (to  REDDY) 
Oh,  pardon  me.     Aren't  you  a  colored  person  ? 

REDDY 

Me!  Colored  ?  You  never  see  a  colored  man 
with  hair  like  that,  did  you  ?  (Points  lantern  at 
his  head.}  This  isn't  my  real  face,  lady.  Why, 
out  of  office  hours,  I've  a  complexion  like  cream 
and  roses.  (Indignantly.)  Colored  man! 

ALICE 

I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  can't  see  very  well. 
Don't  you  think  it  would  be  more  cheerful  if 
we  had  a  little  more  light  ? 

HATCH 

No!  (To  REDDY.)  Drop  that.  We've  got 
to  go.  (To  ALICE.)  And  before  we  go,  I've 
got  to  fix  you. 

ALICE 

Fix  me — how  "fix"  me? 
189 


"Miss  Civilization" 
HATCH 

I'm  sorry,  miss,  but  it's  your  own  fault.  You 
shouldn't  have  tried  to  see  us.  Now  that  you 
have,  before  we  leave,  I've  got  to  tie  you  to  a 
chair — and  gag  you. 

ALICE 
Oh,  really— all  of  that  ? 

HATCH 

I  can't  have  you  raising  the  neighborhood  until 
we  get  well  away. 

ALICE 
I  see.     But — gagged — I'll  look  so  foolish. 

REDDY 

Well,  there's  no  hurry.  We  won't  get  well  away 
until  I've  had  something  to  eat. 

ALICE 

Quite  right.  (To  HATCH.)  You  can  tie  me 
in  a  chair  later,  Mr.  .  But  now  you  must 

190 


"Miss  Civilization" 

remember  that  I  am  your  hostess.     (To  REDDY.) 
You'll  find  plates  in  the  pantry,  please. 

REDDY 
Oh,  I  don't  use  them  things. 

ALICE 

You'll  use  "them  things"  when  you  eat  with 
me.  Go,  do  as  I  tell  you,  please.  (REDDY 
exits.}  And  you — put  away  that  silly  gun  and 
help  him. 

HATCH 
Stay  where  you  are. 

HARRY 

Oh,  what's  the  rush,  governor  ?  She  can't 
hurt  nobody.  And  I'm  near  starved,  too.  (Exit 
into  pantry?) 

HATCH 
This  is  the  last  time  I  take  you  out. 

101 


"Miss  Civilization" 

ALICE  (arranging  the  food  upon  the  table) 

Now,  why  are  you  so  peevish  to  everybody  ? 
Why  don't  you  be  sociable,  and  take  some  sup 
per  ?  (Glances  at  sideboard.)  You  seem  to  have 
taken  everything  else.  Oh,  that  reminds  me. 
Would  you  object  to  loaning  me  about — four,  six 
—about  six  of  our  knives  and  forks  ?  Just  for 
this  supper.  I  suppose  we  can  borrow  from  the 
neighbors  for  breakfast.  Unless  you've  been  call 
ing  on  the  neighbors,  too. 

HATCH 

Oh,  anything  to  oblige  a  lady.  (Threateningly) 
But  no  tricks,  now! 

ALICE 

Oh,  I  can't  promise  that,  because  I  mightn't 
be  able  to  keep  my  promise.  (HATCH  brings 
silver  knives  and  forks  from  the  bag) 

HATCH 

I'll  risk  all  the  tricks  you  know.  Nobody's 
got  much  the  better  of  me  in  the  last  twenty 
years. 

192 


"Miss  Civilization" 
ALICE 

Have  you  been  a  burglar  twenty  years  ?  You 
must  have  begun  very  young.  I  can't  see  your 
face  very  well,  but  I  shouldn't  say  you  were — 
over  forty.  Do  take  that  mask  off.  It  looks 
so — unsociable.  Don't  be  afraid  of  me.  I've  a 
perfectly  shocking  memory  for  faces.  Now,  I'm 
sure  that  under  that  unbecoming  and  terrifying 
exterior  you  are  hiding  a  kind  and  fatherly  coun 
tenance.  Am  I  right  ?  (Laughs.)  Why  do  you 
wear  it  ? 

HATCH  (roughly) 
To  keep  my  face  warm. 

ALICE 

Oh,  pardon  me;  my  mistake.  (A  locomotive 
whistle  Is  heard  at  a  distance.  ALICE  listens 
eagerly.  As  the  whistle  dies  away  and  is  not  re 
peated,  her  face  shows  her  disappointment?) 

HATCH 

What  was  that?  There's  no  trains  this  time 
of  night. 


"Miss  Civilization" 

ALICE  (speaking  partly  to  herself) 
It  was  a  freight  train,  going  the  other  way. 

HATCH  (suspiciously) 
The  other  way  ?    The  other  way  from  where  ? 

ALICE 

From  where  it  started.  Do  you  know,  I've 
always  wanted  to  meet  a  burglar.  But  it's  so  dif 
ficult.  They  go  out  so  seldom. 

HATCH 
Yes;   and  they  arrive  so  late. 

ALICE  (laughing) 

Now,  that's  much  better.  It's  so  nice  of  you 
to  have  a  sense  of  humor.  While  you're  there, 
just  close  those  blinds,  please,  so  that  the  neigh 
bors  can't  see  what  scandalous  hours  we  keep. 
And  then  you  can  make  a  light.  This  is  much  too 

gloomy  for  a  supper  party. 

194 


"Miss  Civilization" 

HATCH  (closing  shutters) 

Yes;  if  those  were  shut  it  might  be  safer. 
(He  closes  shutters  and  turns  on  the  two  electric 
lights.  REDDY  and  HARRY  enter,  carrying  plates.) 

HARRY 

We  aren't  regular  waiters,  miss,  but  we  think 
we're  pretty  good  for  amateurs. 

REDDY 

We  haven't  forgot  nothing.  Not  even  nap 
kins.  Have  some  napkins  ?  (Places  a  pile  of 
folded  napkins  in  front  of  ALICE.  Then  sits  at 
head  of  table,  HARRY  to  lower  right  of  table.  ALICE 
moves  her  chair  away  from  the  table,  but  keeping 
REDDY  on  her  right.  HATCH  sits  still  further 
away  from  the  table  on  her  left.) 

ALICE 

Thanks.  Put  the  plates  down  there.  And 
may  I  help  you  to  some 

REDDY  (taking  food  in  fingers) 
Oh,  we'll  help  ourselves. 


"Miss  Civilization" 
ALICE 

Of  course  you're  accustomed  to  helping  your 
selves,  aren't  you?  (To  HATCH.)  Won't  you 
join  them? 

HATCH 

No.  (Through  the  scene  which  follows,  REDDY 
and  HARRY  continue  to  eat  and  drink  heartily) 

ALICE 

No  ?  Well,  then,  while  they're  having  sup 
per,  you  and  I  will  talk.  If  you're  going  to  gag 
me  soon,  I  want  to  talk  while  I  can.  (Rises  and 
hands  box  to  him)  Have  a  cigar  ? 

HATCH  (takes  cigar) 
Thanks. 

ALICE  (standing  with  hand  on  back  of  chair) 

Now,  I  want  to  ask  you  some  questions.  You 
are  an  intelligent  man.  Of  course,  you  must  be, 
or  you  couldn't  have  kept  out  of  jail  for  twenty 
years.  To  get  on  in  your  business,  a  man  must 

196 


"Miss  Civilization" 

be  intelligent,  and  he  must  have  nerve,  and  cour 
age.  Now — with  those  qualities,  why,  may  I 
ask — why  are  you  so  stupid  as  to  be  a  burglar  ? 

HARRY 
Stupid! 

REDDY 
Well,  I  like  that! 

HATCH 
Stupid  ?    Why,  I  make  a  living  at  it. 

ALICE 
How  much  of  a  living  ? 

HATCH 
Ten  thousand  a  year. 

ALICE 

Ten  thousand — well,  suppose  you  made  fifty 
thousand.  What  good  is  even  a  hundred  thou 
sand  for  one  year,  if  to  get  it  you  risk  going  to 

197 


"Miss  Civilization" 

prison  for  twenty  years  ?  That's  not  sensible. 
Merely  as  a  business  proposition,  to  take  the 
risk  you  do  for  ten  thousand  dollars  is  stupid, 
isn't  it?  I  can  understand  a  man's  risking 
twenty  years  of  his  life  for  some  things — a  man 
like  Peary  or  Dewey,  or  Santos-Dumont.  They 
took  big  risks  for  big  prizes.  But  there's  thou 
sands  of  men  in  this  country,  not  half  as  clever 
as  you  are,  earning  ten  thousand  a  year — with 
out  any  risk  of  going  to  jail.  None  of  them  is 
afraid  to  go  out  in  public  with  his  wife  and  children. 
They  re  not  afraid  to  ask  a  policeman  what  time 
it  is.  They  don't  have  to  wear  black  masks, 
nor  ruin  their  beautiful  complexions  with  burnt 
cork. 

REDDY 
Ah,  go  on.     Who'd  give  me  a  job  ? 

ALICE 
Whom  did  you  ever  ask  for  one  ? 

REDDY  (to  HARRY) 

Pass  me  some  more  of  that  pie  like  mother  used 

to  make. 

198 


"Miss  Civilization " 

HATCH 

Yes;  there  are  clerks  and  shopkeepers  work 
ing  behind  a  counter  twenty-four  hours  a  day, 
but  they  don't  make  ten  thousand  a  year,  and 
no  one  ever  hears  of  them.  There's  no  fame  in 
their  job. 

ALICE 

Fame!  Oh,  how  interesting.  Are  you — a 
celebrity  ? 

HATCH 

I'm  quite  as  well  known  as  I  care  to  be.  Now, 
to-morrow,  all  the  papers  will  be  talking  about 
this.  There'll  be  columns  about  us  three.  No 
one  will  know  we  are  the  ones  they're  talking 
about 

REDDY 
I  hope  not. 

HATCH 

But  the  men  in  our  profession  will  know. 
And  they'll  say,  "That  was  a  neat  job  of  So- 

199 


"Miss  Civilization*' 

and-so's  last  night."  That's  fame.  Why,  we've 
got  a  reputation  from  one  end  of  this  country  to 
the  other. 

HARRY 

That's  right!     There's  some  of  us  just  as  well 
known  as — Mister — Santos — Dumont. 


REDDY 
And  we  fly  just  as  high,  too. 

ALICE  (to  HATCH) 

I  suppose  you — I  suppose  you're  quite  a  famous 
burglar  ? 

REDDY 

Him?  Why,  he's  as  well  known  as  Billy  the 
Kid. 

ALICE 

Billy  the  Kid,  really!  He  sounds  so  attractive. 
But  I'm  afraid — I  don't  think — that  I  ever  heard 
of  htm. 

200 


"Miss  Civilization" 

REDDY 

Never  heard  of  Billy  the  Kid  ?    What  do  yov 
think  of  that  ? 

HATCH 

Well,  then,  I'm  as  well  known  as  "Brace"  Phil 
lips,  the  Manhattan  Bank  robber. 

REDDY 
Sure  he  is. 

HATCH 
Don't  tell  me  you  never  heard  of  him  ? 

ALICE 
I'm  afraid  not. 

HATCH 

Why,  he's  a  head-liner.     He's  as  well  known 
as  George  Post.     Coppy  Farrell  ?     Billy  Porter  ? 

ALICE 

No.     There  you  are.     Now,  you  claim  there 
is  fame  in  this  profession,  and  you  have  named 

2OI 


"Miss  Civilization" 

five  men  who  are  at  the  top  of  it,  and  I've  never 
heard  of  one  of  them.  And  I  read  the  papers, 
too. 

REDDY 

Well,  there's  other  ladies  who  have  heard  of  us. 
Real  ladies.  When  I  was  doing  my  last  bit  in 
jail,  I  got  a  thousand  letters  from  ladies  asking 
for  me  photograph,  and  offering  to  marry  me. 


ALICE 

Really  ?  Well,  that  only  proves  that  men — • 
as  husbands — are  more  desirable  in  jail  than  out. 
(To  HATCH.)  No;  it's  a  poor  life. 


HATCH 

It's  a  poor  life  you  people  lead  with  us  to 
worry  you.  There's  seventy  millions  of  you  in 
the  United  States,  and  only  a  few  of  us,  and  yet 
we  keep  you  guessing  all  the  year  round.  Why, 
we're  the  last  thing  you  think  of  at  night  when 
you  lock  the  doors,  we're  the  first  thing  you 
think  of  in  the  morning  when  you  feel  for  the 
silver  basket.  We're  just  a  few  up  against  sev- 

202 


"Miss  Civilization" 

enty  millions.     I  tell  you  there's  fame  and  big 
money  and  a  free  life  in  my  business. 


ALICE 

Yes;  it's  a  free  life  until  you  go  to  jail.  It's 
this  way.  You're  barbarians,  and  there's  no 
place  for  you  in  a  civilized  community — except 
in  jail.  Everybody  is  working  against  you. 
Every  city  has  its  police  force;  almost  every 
house  nowadays  has  a  private  watchman.  And 
if  we  want  to  raise  a  hue  and  cry  after  you,  there 
are  the  newspapers,  and  the  telegraph,  and  the 
telephone  (nods  at  telephone)  and  the  cables  all 
over  the 


HATCH  (grimly) 

Thank  you.  One  moment,  please.  (Throws 
open  overcoat,  showing  that  it  is  lined  with  burg 
lars9  jimmies,  chisels,  and  augers.) 

ALICE 

My!  What  an  interesting  coat.  It  looks  like 
a  tool  chest.  Just  the  coat  for  an  automobile 
trip. 

203 


"Miss  Civilization" 
HATCH 

Harry,  cut  those  telephone  wires.  (Hands 
barbed-wire  cutter  to  HARRY.  To  ALICE.)  Thank 
you  for  reminding  me. 

ALICE 

Oh,  not  at  all.  You've  nothing  to  thank  me 
for.  (HARRY  goes  to  telephone.  To  HARRY.) 
Don't  make  a  noise  doing  that.  Don't  wake  my 
mother.  (To  HATCH.)  She's  nervous,  and  she's 
ill,  and  if  you  wake  her,  or  frighten  her,  I'll  keep 
the  police  after  you  until  every  one  of  you  is  in 
jail. 

HATCH 

You  won't  keep  after  us  very  far  when  I've 
tied  you  up.  Bring  me  those  curtain  cords, 
Harry. 

ALICE 

Oh,  really,  that's  too  ridiculous.  (Listens  ap 
prehensively.) 

HATCH 

Sorry  I  had  to  bust  up  your  still  alarm,  but 
after  we  go,  we  can't  have  you  chatting  with 

204 


"Miss  Civilization" 

the  police.  If  you  hadn't  so  kindly  given  me  a 
tip  about  the  telephone,  I  might  have  gone  off 
and  clean  forgot  that.  (HARRY  takes  curtain 
cords  from  window  curtains.) 

REDDY 

I'm  afraid  pretty  polly  talked  too  much  that 
time.  We  ain't  all  stupid. 

ALICE 

No;  so  I  see,  so  I  see.  It  was  careless  of  me. 
But  everybody  you  call  upon  may  not  be  so 
careless. 

HATCH 

Well,  I've  won  out  for  twenty  years.  I've 
never  been  in  jail. 

ALICE 

Don't  worry.  You're  young.  I  told  you  you 
looked  young.  Your  time  is  coming.  In  these 
days  there's  no  room  for  burglars.  You  belong 
to  the  days  of  stage-coaches.  You're  old-fash 
ioned  now.  You're  trying  to  fight  civilization, 

205 


"Miss  Civilization" 

that's  what  you're  trying  to  do.  You  may  keep 
ahead  for  a  time,  but  in  a  long  race  I'll  back 
civilization  to  win. 

HATCH 

Is  that  so  ?  Well,  Miss  Civilization,  you've 
had  your  say,  and  I  hope  you  feel  better.  (To 
HARRY.)  Give  me  that  silk  muffler  of  yours. 
(To  ALICE.)  If  civilization  is  going  to  help  you, 
it's  got  to  hurry. 

ALICE 

You  don't  mean  to  say  you  really  are  going  to 
gag  me  ? 

HATCH 
I  am. 

ALICE 

My!  But  I  shall  look  silly.  (With  her  face 
turned  right  she  listens  apprehensively?) 

HARRY  (coming  down  with  curtain  cords,  and  tak 
ing  muffler  from  his  pocket) 

I've  got  the  stuff  in  this  muffler. 
206 


"Miss  Civilization" 

HATCH 

Well,  give  me  that,  too.  (Shows  inside  coat 
pocket.)  I'll  put  it  in  the  safe.  (HARRY  places 
muffler  on  table,  exposing  jewelry.  HATCH  be 
gins  placing  the  ornaments  one  at  a  time  in  his 
pocket.  To  ALICE.)  What  is  it  ?  What  did 
you  hear  ? 

ALICE 

I — I  thought  I  heard  my  mother  moving 
about. 

HATCH 
Well,  she'd  better  not  move  about. 

ALICE  (fiercely) 

You'd  better  not  wake  her.  (Sees  the  jewels.) 
Oh!  Look  at  the  "graft,"  or  is  it  "swag"? 
Which  is  it  ? 

HATCH  (to  HARRY) 

Cover  'em  up;  cover  it  up.  (HARRY  tries  to 
hide  the  jewels  with  one  hand,  while  he  passes  a 
lady's  watch  to  HATCH.) 

207 


"Miss  Civilization" 

HARRY  (to  ALICE) 
That's  your  watch.     Fm  sorry  it  has  to  go. 

ALICE 

Fm  not.  It's  the  first  time  it  ever  did  go. 
And,  oh,  thank  you  for  taking  that  big  brooch. 
It's  a  gift  of  father's,  so  I  had  to  wear  it,  but 
it's  so  unbecoming.  (She  listens  covertly.) 

HATCH 

Put  your  hat  on  them.  Cover  them  up.  (HARRY 
partly  covers  jewels  with  his  hat.  HATCH  lifts 
a  diamond  necklace.) 

ALICE 

I  suppose  you  know  your  own  business — but 
that  is  paste. 

HATCH 
Do  you  want  to  be  gagged  now? 

ALICE 

Pardon  me,  of  course  you  know  what  you 
want.  (Notices  another  necklace.)  Oh,  that's 

208 


"Miss  Civilization" 

Mrs.  Warren's  necklace!     So  you  called  on  her, 
too,  did  you  ?     Isn't  she  attractive! 

REDDY 

We  didn't  ask  for  the  lady  of  the  house.  They 
ain't  always  as  sociable  as  you  are. 

* 

ALICE 

Well,  that's  her  necklace.  You  got  that  at 
the  house  on  the  hill  with  the  red  roof — the  house 
has  the  red  roof,  not  the  hill.  (She  recognizes, 
with  an  exclamation,  a  gold  locket  and  chain  which 
HATCH  is  about  to  place  in  his  pocket.)  Oh! 
that's  Mrs.  Lowell's  locket!  How  could  you! 
(She  snatches  locket  from  HATCH,  and  clasps  it  in 
both  hands.  She  rises  indignantly)  How  dared 
you  take  that! 

HATCH 
Put  that  down! 

ALICE  (wildly  and  rapidly) 

No;  I  will  not.  Do  you  know  what  that 
means  to  that  woman  ?  She  cares  more  for  that 

209 


"Miss  Civilization" 

than  for  anything  in  this  world.  Her  husband 
used  to  wear  this.  (Points.)  That's  a  lock  of 
their  child's  hair.  The  child's  dead,  and  the 
husband's  dead,  and  that's  all  she  has  left  of 
either  of  them.  And  you  took  it,  you  brutes! 

REDDY 

Of  course  we  took  it.  Why  does  she  wear  it 
where  everybody  can  see  it  ? 

HATCH,  (savagely) 
Keep  quiet,  you  fool. 

ALICE 
She  wore  it  ?    You  took  it — from  her? 

HATCH 

We  didn't  hurt  her.  We  only  frightened  her 
a  bit.  (Angrily.)  And  we'll  frighten  you  be 
fore  we're  done  with  you,  Miss  Civilization! 

ALICE  (defiantly,  her  voice  rising) 

Frighten  me!  You — you  with  your  faces  cov 
ered!  You're  not  men  enough.  You're  afraid 

210 


"Miss  Civilization" 

to  even  steal  from  men.  You  rob  women  when 
they're  alone — at  night.  'Holds  up  locket.)  Try 
to  take  that  from  me! 


VOICE  (calling) 
Alice — Alice! 

ALICE 

Mother!  Oh,  I  forgot,  I  forgot.  (The  burg 
lars  rise  and  move  toward  her  menacingly.)  Please, 
please  keep  quiet.  For  God's  sake,  don't — let 
— her — know! 

VOICE 

Alice,  what's  wrong?  Who  are  you  talking 
to  ?  (ALICE  runs  to  the  curtains,  with  one  hand 
held  out  to  the  burglars,  entreating  silence.) 

ALICE 

I'm — I'm  talking  to  James,  the  coachman. 
One  of  the  horses  is  ill.  Don't  come  down, 
mother.  Don't  come  down.  Go  back  to  bed. 
He's  going  now,  right  away.  He  came  for  some 
medicine.  It's  all  right.  Good-night,  mother. 

211 


"Miss  Civilization " 

VOICE 
Can't  I  help  ? 

ALICE  (vehemently) 
No;  no.     Good-night,  mother. 

VOICE 
Good-night. 

HATCH  (fiercely,  to  HARRY) 

That's  enough  of  this!  We  can't  leave  here 
with  the  whole  house  awake.  And  there's  a 
coachman,  too.  She'll  wake  him  next.  He'll 
have  the  whole  damned  village  after  us.  (To 
ALICE.)  That  woman  upstairs  and  you  have 
got  to  have  your  tongues  stopped. 

ALICE  (standing  in  front  of  curtains) 

You  try  to  go  near  that  woman!  She's  ill, 
she's  feeble,  she's  my — mother!  You  dare  to 
touch  her. 

HATCH 
Get  out  of  my  way. 

212 


"Miss  Civilization" 
ALICE 

She's  ill,  you  cowards.  It  will  kill  her.  You'll 
have  to  kill  me  before  you  get  through  this  door. 

HATCH  (savagely) 

Well,  then,  if  it  comes  to  that —  (Three  loco 
motive  whistles  are  heard  from  just  outside  the 
house.  ALICE  throws  up  her  hands  hysterically.) 

REDDY 
Ah!    At  last!    They've  come.     They've  come! 

HATCH  (fiercely) 

They've  come!  What  is  it?  What  does  that 
mean  ?  (REDDY  runs  to  window  and  opens  the 
shutters) 

ALICE  (jubilantly) 

It  means — it  means  that  twenty  men  are 
crossing  that  lawn.  It  means  that  while  you  sat 
drinking  there,  Civilization  was  racing  toward 
you  at  seventy  miles  an  hour! 

213 


"Miss  Civilization" 
HATCH 

Damnation!  We're  trapped.  Get  to  the  wag 
on — quick!  No.  Leave  the  girl  alone.  We've 
no  time  for  that.  Drop  that  stuff.  That  way. 
That  way. 

REDDY  (at  window) 

No.  Get  back!  Get  back!  It's  too  late. 
There's  hundreds  of  them  out  there. 

HATCH  (running  to  centre  door) 
Out  here!     This  way!     Quick! 

ALICE  (mockingly) 

Yes;  come!  You  don't  dare  come  this  way 
now!  (She  drags  open  the  curtains,  disclosing 
CAPTAIN  LUCAS  and  two  other  policemen.  For 
an  instant  they  stand,  covering  the  burglars  with 
revolvers.  REDDY  runs  to  window.  He  is  seized 
by  an  entering  crowd  of  men  in  the  oil-stained 
blue  jeans  of  engineers  and  brakemen.) 

CAPTAIN  LUCAS 

Hold  up  your  hands,   all  of  you!     I  guess  I 

know    you.     (With    his    left    hand    he   tears    off 

214 


"Miss  Civilization " 

HATCH'S  mask.)  "Joe"  Hatch— at  last.  (Pulls 
off  HARRY'S  mask.)  And  Harry  Hayes.  I 
thought  so.  And  that's — the  "  Kid."  The  whole 
gang.  (To  the  police.)  Good  work,  boys. 
(To  ALICE.)  My  congratulations,  Miss  Gardner. 
They're  the  worst  lot  in  the  country.  You're  a 
brave  young  lady.  You  ought 

ALICE  (speaking  with  an  effort  and  swaying 
slightly) 

Hush,  please.  Don't — don't  alarm  my  mother. 
Mother's  not  as  strong  as — as  I  am.  (Her  eyes 
close,  and  she  faints  across  the  arm  of  the  Chief 
of  Police  as  the 

CURTAIN  FALLS. 


215 


73BED  AT 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


507n-l,'69  ( J5643s8 )  2373 — 3A,1 


PS1522.V4  1911 


3  2106  00206  6568 


